Stop The Presses
by Teleryn
Summary: Sequel to 'Even The Score': December, 1899. Owing to a blizzard, the Riverside shack is rendered inhabitable. Ace and the girls have no option but to move into the Duane Street Lodging House, which yields some...interesting consequences. But when the girls' past tracks them down, they're put in serious danger. From then on, nothing will be the same again. Rated T for mild violence.
1. Somethin' Tells Me The Tide'll Be Turnin

**Stop The Presses**

**Chapter One**

**Somethin' Tells Me The Tide'll Be Turnin'**

**Disclaimer: … -_- Ok. Right. Let me make this very clear **_**for the rest of these chapters**_**: I do not own Newsies. I don't own the lyrics. I don't own any ideas that aren't mine because, well, philosophically that makes no sense. So THERE.**

**A/N: I'm baaaack :D I told myself I should have a longer break between writing the two stories, but…damn it, fanfiction is just too much fun, and you readers are all too good to me ^_^ So, here you have it: the sequel.*****Epic opening music*******

'C'mon, c'mon, do it again! How d'you do that? C'mon, again!'

'Alright, alright,' laughed Madison, sitting across from Tumbler. He didn't dare blink as she swept her palms back and forth, making her penny disappear from sight. His wide, sparky eyes searched her empty hands in vain: from behind his ear, there it was again.

'Youse a real witch, Madison,' he said in hushed awe. She giggled and put a finger to her lips.

'Ssh, keep it a secret or they'll burn me at the stake…'

'Too late!'

Madison gave a squeal of surprise as Mush snuck up behind her and lifted her off the ground by the waist.

'Quick, get me some kindling fer this wicked witch,' he called to the rest of the lobby. The newsboys, and girls, enjoyed their spectacle.

Madison opened her mouth to protest, but the sound that came out descended into a spluttering cough. Concerned, Mush set her down.

'You alright, peach?'

Madison nodded grimly, rubbing a palm over her chest. From the other side of the room Frames sniffed loudly.

'Just the cold gettin' to me, that's all,' replied Madison at last, scratchily.

'Well let me warm ya up,' said Mush, grinning as he pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in the soft creases of his shirt layers and hugged back.

'Oh yeah, that's much better.'

'Hate to say it,' announced Ace from the staircase. She stood up, knees creaking in draughts that came through the door. 'But we oughta be headin' back. It's dark already.'

Reluctantly, the Riverside girls got up out of their cozy nooks near the fireplace. Hats were re-secured and coats shrugged back on. Blink helped Darlin' wrap her long scarf all the way around her neck, to the point where it reached the tip of her nose. She pulled it back down to sneak in a last peck on his lips, which they both smiled at.

'Hey Ace,' said Streets. 'Ya think Chestnut Man's still sellin'?'

'Sure hope so,' she replied. 'Else we're gonna need other dinner plans.'

'Take care now,' said David to the girls, as they headed to the door. 'I heard there's gonna be a mean blizzard tonight.'

'We will Dave, don't worry,' said Skates, putting on her blue mittens.

'See ya tomorrow,' said Ace to Jack, next to her on the step. She leaned back to plant a kiss on his cheek. He smiled crookedly.

'Carryin' the banner,' he said.

'Carryin' the banner!' she and the girls chanted in response. They waved the boys and Kloppman goodbye, before marching into the evening frost.

'You can stick around a little longer, right Dave?' said Specs. The boy nodded.

'Yeah, as long as I'm home in time for dinner.'

'Is your ma gonna let Les outta the apartment anytime soon?' asked Tumbler, folding his arms across an armchair rest.

'Not in this weather,' sighed David. 'She's frightened he'll catch pneumonia, says he's not as good as I am at warding off disease, yet.'

'That's a shame,' replied Tumbler. He slid onto the floor and leaned against the side of the chair, wandering off into a daydream.

Crutchy peered out of the window and watched shadowy clouds hang like sails from the December sky. When he heaved a weighty sigh, it was supposed to be to himself, but in a brief pocket of silence, everyone else heard it.

'Everythin' ducky, Crutchy?' asked Jack, knowing that was not a usual sound for the perpetually cheerful newsie.

'Yeah,' he said, resting on the windowsill with both legs stretched out in front of him. 'I'se just thinkin' is all.'

'About what?'

'Ah, nuttin' important,' he muttered.

'Crutchy, everything's important in some way,' reasoned David, ever the wordsmith. 'You can tell us.'

The boy glanced in their direction, his eyes holding a mixture of uncertainty and trust.

'It's just…I dunno if it's winter talkin', but…more an' more these days I think I'll never get a goil to settle down with.'

'What're ya talkin' about?' said Blink, taking up the sliver of windowsill not occupied by Crutchy's feet. 'What makes ya think that?'

'Well, I mean don't get me wrong,' he said, looking at Jack, Mush and Blink in turn. 'I'se real happy for you guys, but first there was you an' Darlin', then you an' Madison, an' now you an' Ace…it's just somethin' I'd like one day, ya know?'

Crutchy stared at his hands as he rubbed them for heat. David and Jack exchanged mutual looks of pity, before hauling themselves away from the stairs and towards the window.

'You'll get it too, Crutchy,' said Jack, putting an arm around the boy's shoulder. 'It just ain't time yet, that's all.'

'Yeah, what goil could resist ya?' said Mush with a grin. 'Ya got sunshine comin' outta yer ears.'

That made Crutchy smile and look instantly like his normal self.

'Ya really think dat's true?'

'Sure,' piped up Skittery, between puffs on his cigarette. 'Just stay patient - these things tend ta sneak up on ya when least expected.'

'Oh, says the expert on tender love,' drawled Dutchy, who swooped down just in time to miss Skittery's fist.

'What?' he said defensively. 'It's true, ain't it?'

'Yeah, he's right,' said Jack, patting his friend on the shoulder. 'Although…' he added, '…I agree you ain't exactly qualified to give this kind of advice on a regular basis or nothin'.'

'Too glum an' dumb to hold down a woman,' chuckled Snoddy, safely from the top of the staircase.

'Well,' said Skittery coolly. 'I ain't nowhere near as glum or dumb as a certain pair…'

'Oh yeah?' said David. 'Who's that?' A quarter of the newsies read Skittery's mind and chorused with him:

'Race an' Streets.'

'Those two…' Jack shook his head.

'I swear,' said Blink. 'They'se gonna be old as Kloppman by the time they admit they like each other.'

'Ahem.'

'No offense, Kloppman.'

'Wait,' said David, frowning. 'What are you talking about? I thought they couldn't stand each other.'

Most of the newsies rolled their eyes.

'Oh Dave,' said Jack, lightly patting his arm. 'If ya learn one thing outside a' school today, it's that when two people go outta their way to get on each other's noives, chances are they've secretly fallen in love.'

'So what does that mean for you and the Delanceys?' snickered David. The newsies cackled while Jack yanked his friend's cap over his face.

'I kid, I kid, jeez…so what are you suggesting we do?'

'I dunno,' shrugged Blink.

'Problem is,' said Mush. 'They're both as stubborn as each other. I don't know who'd be the first to cave.'

'Well we can always try an' make it happen fer both of 'em at the same time,' chimed in Crutchy.

'What, ya wanna play matchmaker?' said Jack with raised eyebrows.

'Why not? It'll pass the time,' said Dutchy.

'Yeah, it'll be fun,' agreed Specs.

'What'll be fun?'

The newsies' faces froze up faster than water in an icebox as Racetrack ambled through the front entrance, shivering off the outdoor cold with a freshly lit cigar.

'Snow,' declared Crutchy, with the first word that made it to the front of his mind.

'Snow?'

'Yeah,' he said, getting supportive nods from the others. 'When it arrives, it'll be fun, in the snow, yeah…snowball fights, snow angels, all a' that stuff…snow.'

Racetrack surveyed the room with a suspicious gaze, but hung up his coat and scarf on the overcrowded hat stand all the same.


	2. If We're United

**Chapter Two**

**If We're United**

**A/N: Congrats to Chloe Chamberleign and Nicely Nicely's Little Sister, the first reviewers of Chapter One :) People like you make my spirit do a happy dance that is much too ridiculous to describe :P **

Ace woke up with a peeling headache and numb toes.

'Oh my word…' she winced, curling her blankets tighter and tighter around her body until only her head was exposed. She sat on her feet and felt her teeth chatter uncontrollably.

'It's s-so c-cold,' whispered Skates, who sat up in her bunk at the same time, breath as white and puffy as steam engine clouds.

'Quick, let's get dressed so I can get some coffee in me already,' said Streets, nudging Vi and Madison awake. Every limb in the Riverside shack trembled.

Ace pulled on all three pairs of socks she owned at once, before stuffing them painfully into her winter boots, whose leather had stiffened overnight. When she ran out of extra layers, she stuck her head out of the door to find several inches of white, powdery snow caked over everything.

'Wow, Dave wasn't kiddin'…'

'Snow?!' gasped Skates, joining Ace at the door, wide-eyed. 'I can't believe it…'

'Why not?' said Rich, tucking her brown hair under her cap. 'Happens every year.'

Ten minutes later, the newsgirls were leaving footprints in the new snow. They picked up their usual round of morning coffee in tin mugs, which they cradled and nursed all the way to the distribution center.

Ace drained the last lukewarm dregs as they watched an extraordinarily chaotic display unfold outside the gates of _The World_.

'Duck!' cried Darlin', and in good time - a snowball whizzed past Vi's left ear, followed by three other strays.

'We're really caught in the line a' fire,' yelled Ace over the laughter and shrieks of the newsies' mass snowball fight. They stuck together and put up elbows as shields, occasionally scooping together some snowballs of their own in retaliation.

The eight of them had just reached their Duane Street friends when the circulation bell cut through the commotion on the streets. Surprisingly, the thirty-something boys quickly wrapped up their battle and filed into a queue, albeit not an orderly one.

'Pretty magical mornin', ain't it?' said Dutchy to Frames, as she hopped over to greet him and Specs. The others had quickly taken to calling them the 'Three Glassketeers' on account of their shared spectacle wearing.

'Aw yeah,' she replied, sniffing with every breath.

'Wow, an' I thought my nose was red dis mornin',' remarked Specs. Self-conscious, Frames touched the tip of her nose, as if somehow that would tell her anything. She looked around at the girls, and only now realized how scarlet theirs were too.

'Well, you can't have snow without a little nip in the air,' she half-shrugged, half-shivered.

'Heya Blink,' said Darlin', sidling up to her beau in the line. She tactically slung his arm over her shoulder and soaked up his radiating heat.

'Hey,' he smiled, using up all his stores of willpower not to kiss her in public. When he got a good look at her face, however, the smile disappeared.

'Whoa.'

'What? What's wrong?' she said, alarmed. He rested a hand against her cheek and widened his eye at the contrast in temperature.

'Your skin's so cold, hun. Practically blue.'

'Is it?' Darlin' felt her own face, and stared at her hands: translucent and purpler than any pair of hands should ordinarily be.

Everyone else picked up on it too:

'Ya look like Death's daughter,' said Racetrack, pulling a face at Streets' pallor and raccoon eyes.

'Good morning to ya too,' she replied hoarsely. 'I had real trouble sleepin' last night, it was so cold.'

The hoarseness in her voice inadvertently made it easier for Streets to pass herself off as a boy, but this was a small consolation in the larger scheme of her drained energy. Jack, papes in hand, looked over Ace with uneasy eyes.

'Gotta admit…you an' the others look under the weather today, more than usual.'

'Ain't we all?' said Ace, longing to crawl back under her blankets. She nodded at Wiesel. 'Mornin'. Eighty papes please.'

'Eighty papes fer the new guy.'

She pursed her lips and drummed her gloved fingers on the counter.

'Weas,' said Ace. 'It's been over a month now. Don't I merit gettin' called by my actual name?'

'Eh,' replied the clerk indifferently. 'Maybe one day, but right now it just suits ya too well.'

Ace, with her resting deadpan expression, slid one of the papes off her pile, smacked herself in the face with it, and moved along.

'Suits me,' she muttered, shaking her head. 'What does it take, I ask ya?'

'Listen Ace,' said Jack, as they sat next to each other and opened up the broadsheets. 'You sure you're okay to sell today? Youse all seem ta' have the same bad case a' the shivers.'

'I'm fine, Jack, thanks,' she responded, too quickly. The fingers on her left hand subconsciously moved to massage away the pain in her temple. 'The shack's just not exactly insulated for the season, is all.'

'Well that ain't good,' chipped in Snitch, joining them. 'If you're sleepin' in there every night, what're ya gonna look like by Christmas? Half-dead?'

'Probably full-dead,' rasped Streets, stack under her arm.

'Ace,' said Jack, more pleadingly. 'Ya can't.'

'Can't what?' she said gruffly, scanning the less exciting headlines.

'Stay in that shack, at least not when it's this cold. What if one a' ya gets really sick, or worse - all a' youse?'

'You know what,' said Ace, giving him a sardonic side-glance. 'You're right. Let me just pack up my bags an' telegram my butler so he can chauffeur me to my suite at the Waldorf Astoria.'

Jack closed his paper and sighed, knowing she was right and feeling annoyed about it. Ace copied him, watching the circle of the Manhattan newsies and her girls grow around them.

'Jack, I know it's a sucky situation,' she said, lower. 'But unless you can suggest a good alternative, then we simply got no choice but to stick it out until winter's over.'

Her partner turned down the corners of his mouth and folded his elbows over his knees. Frames kept sniffing, while Madison spluttered out a cough every so often. On impulse, Jack then put forward this suggestion:

'What if ya stayed wit' us?'

All conversations in the immediate vicinity ceased. Ace stared at him, unsure of which feeling to prioritize. She went with incredulity.

'What…Are you crazy?'

'But it'd be perfect,' he protested. 'The lodgin' house is warm, it's got beds, the fireplace, plus youse already sell wit' us here. Might as well cut yer commutin' time in half.'

'Jack, this is nuts - ' began Racetrack.

'And runnin' water,' added Jack. The girls' eyes went to him like hawks to a mouse. Rich and Darlin' stepped towards Jack with wide eyes, like he held the keys to the city.

'Running water?' parroted Rich.

'Heated too,' said Jack. 'If ya ask Kloppman to use his stove.'

The newsie practically folded at the knees, hands pressed to her lips.

'Ace…'

'The rainwater bucket was iced over this mornin',' piped up Skates. Their leader opened her mouth, only to shut it again and look stumped. Then, as if acting on a sixth sense, Ace turned around to see the Delancey brothers eavesdropping on their conversation from behind the grille. She sent them visual daggers before leading Jack towards the gates by the elbow. The others flocked after them, keen to know the outcome of this new debate.

'The answer ain't as simple as ya might think.'

'Why, Ace?' said Jack. They stopped outside the gates, the prints of many newsies already grinding the powdery snow into slush. 'You're the Riverside leader, it's your call. If ya want to, just say yes already.'

'But it ain't my call to make, Jack,' she said, one hand on her hip. 'It's Kloppman's.'

As soon as she said it, the newsies experienced a collective thought: _Ah._

'He's a sweet old guy,' Ace continued. 'But he's still your landlord. What exactly d'ya think he's gonna say to eight…_different…_newsies sharin' quarters with over a dozen newsboys, huh? It's a very thoughtful offer, but realistically speakin', I just don't see it workin'.'

'Ace is right,' sighed Skates. 'We'll be fine, Jack. Just a little more wood on the bucket fire, a few more cheap blankets, an' we're good.'

Jack took in the girl's pale face and doubted every word, but decided to hold his tongue for the time being.

'Yeah,' said Madison in between coughs. 'A little cold's nothin' some roast chestnuts an' strong coffee can't cure.'

Without further ado, she held up a paper and got into selling character.

'Extra! Extra! Brand new reports on the American-Philippine War, read all -'

Unfortunately, another coughing fit meant she had to cut her own sentence off. Mush gently slapped her between the shoulder panels as she folded in half. Jack moved his eyes from this sight to his girlfriend, who sent him a look of mild despair.

'At least let me try for ya,' he said, patting the top of her arm. 'I'll talk to him, you'll see. In fact…' he said more loudly, getting the attention of the other Riverside girls. 'After sellin', get all your stuff together from the shack and come to Duane Street. You're sleepin' outta the cold tonight.'

'Jack,' said Ace, before he turned on his heel and went into the streets to sell. She rolled her eyes and threw her hands to the white sky. 'Ai ya…_Jack._'

She went after her partner, which the newsies took as the signal to split up into groups of their own. Now they were professional and focused, leaving all desires to start another snowball fight at the gates. After all, that would endanger the papes.

**A/N: Review, review, review! I answer every single one on a note of thanks ^_^**


	3. Tell 'Em I'm On My Way

**Chapter Three**

**Tell 'Em I'm On My Way**

**A/N: Holy reviewers, Batman! 'Even The Score' got 68 hits yesterday **_**alone**_** :O And the first chapter's had 115 visitors…I feel like…like a teabag steeped in gratitude. Gratitude tea. [Yes, yes I am British]**

'Kelly, even for you, _even for you_, this is madness.'

'But why, Kloppman?'

'These here lodgings are for news_boys_, not girls. To mix the sexes, it…it just ain't the done thing. The idea a' you sleeping so close together, it just sets my bones on edge.'

'Well it shouldn't,' argued Jack. The others nodded and voiced their protests to back him up.

'Yeah Klopp, it ain't like we'se just bringin' some goils off a' the streets,' said Blink. 'You know them.'

'Sure I do,' said Kloppman. 'An' they're delightful. But we only got so many beds upstairs. How can I be guaranteed that you'll behave like respectful gentlemen, huh?'

''Cause I'm tellin' ya, Kloppman,' said Jack.

'We wouldn't be askin' if the goils didn't have nowhere else,' said Mush. 'Their shack's way too cold for them to live in.'

'It's that bad, huh?'

'Aw, you shoulda seen 'em this mornin',' said Jack, leaning against the front desk. 'If Ace an' the goils sleep there again tonight, they might not make it outta bed tomorrow.' He shook his head. 'She's too stubborn, wants to put on a brave face, as usual.'

'Sounds like somebody else we know,' grinned Crutchy, patting Jack on the shoulder. He grinned back, but looked again at Kloppman with beseeching eyes.

'Please Kloppman? Just until the winter's out. An' they'll pay rent like the rest of us.'

'They'd better,' he said firmly, before twitching his mouth into a smile. 'An' I'm trustin' all a' youse to be sensible about the arrangement, so don't disappoint me.'

'We won't,' beamed Jack.

'Thanks Klopp,' cheered the boys. A cold breeze swept through the front door. The eight Riverside girls in question filed into the lobby, each carrying a small bundle. They exhaled, red-nosed and relieved to be somewhere warm. Ace looked at Jack and waited.

'So…what's the answer?'

'Let me put it this way,' he replied. 'You got five cents?'

Her eyes lit up. She looked at the girls, who were outwardly more thrilled, and back at Kloppman.

'Really? We're welcome here?'

'As long as things round here stay reasonably respectable…then yes,' said the old man warmly.

'We're much indebted to ya, Kloppman, and I don't just mean financially. Although speakin' of which…' she said, digging in her pockets. '…Let's pay up before we forget.'

Kloppman gladly took their first rent payments, although Streets looked sad to part with hers.

'Guess I won't be buyin' hot chestnuts for a while.'

'Ya do know we have meals here, right?' said Racetrack from the stairs. All eight girls' ears perked up:

'Seriously?'

'Shoah,' said Kloppman. 'The nuns from the local convent prepare little dishes an' bring 'em over here every day, breakfast an' dinner.'

'Wow,' said Frames, in quiet awe. 'How good of them.'

'The stews are real warmin' this time a' year,' said Crutchy. 'Should be here in an hour or so.'

'This just gets better an' better,' said Madison, slinging an arm around Mush's waist.

'Sure does,' said Darlin', greeting Blink with a hug. Ace and Jack just smiled at each other, but it was enough. Crutchy sighed to himself again.

The nuns dropped off the portions of stew a while later, content to provide extra to the new arrivals. Frames lingered by the door when the last newsie had claimed their cup.

'Which convent do you belong to, sister?'

'St Agnes, young man,' replied the elderly woman, tucking her shivering hands into her sleeves.

'St Agnes,' repeated Frames to herself. She waved goodbye and closed the door. Everyone was tucking into their cups of stew, although Rich initially hesitated.

'This ain't pork, is it?'

'Nah,' said Skittery in between chews. 'Beef.'

'Oh, that's fine then,' she said, taking a large bite.

'Why, ya don't like pork?'

'Just tryin' ta' keep kosher, is all.'

'You're Jewish?' said Specs. Rich nodded. 'Why didn't ya say so before?'

'I didn't think it particularly newsworthy,' she shrugged.

When they were through, another hour was spent on the usual leisure activities: card games, clap games, and conversations about everything and nothing.

'Heya fellas,' came a voice from the door. In walked Snaps, officially a resident of the lodging house, but something of an elsewhere-wanderer for most of the day. In fact, even a month after they first began hanging out with the Manhattan newsies, Snaps had yet to figure out who the Riverside newsies really were.

Hence his stunned skid in the middle of the lobby as he caught sight of them, hair down and cozied up to the boys.

'What the -'

'Snaps, it's alright,' said Jack, both hands directing him to a place of calm. 'You know these guys. It's just…they ain't _guys_ as such.'

'O-k-a-y…' said the newsie, clutching his black bowler hat uneasily. Ace swiftly zigzagged her way through the boys to greet him personally.

'We'll be stayin' here until spring. I hope we don't get in your way, an' if we do, then I apologize in advance. Also, keep this to yourself. We clear?'

Snaps watched her spit into her hand and offer it to him. Despite being overwhelmed by so much new information, he did the same.

'I'm Snaps.'

'Nice name.'

'It's 'cause he's got this frankly extraordinary habit a' snapping in his sleep,' said Racetrack. 'But don't worry, ya stop noticin' after a while.'

'Huh.'

'Speakin' a sleeping,' said Kloppman, just beginning to extinguish some of the lobby candles. 'Youse better sort out suitable arrangements an' get to bed. Early start tomorrow.'

'Ain't it always,' said Skittery, putting out his cigarette in an ashtray.

'You got your stuff?' Ace asked her friends. They nodded, and she picked up her own dirty cotton satchel.

'That all ya brought wit' ya?' said Jack.

'Well when I split from home I thought I'd better travel light,' she replied.

'Fair enough,' he said, putting an arm around her as they climbed the stairs. 'Night Kloppman.'

'Night Kloppman,' the others called into the darkening lobby.

'Sleep soundly, you crazy kids.'

'Alright, now,' declared Jack, surveying the bunkroom like a town planner. 'There are more of us than there are beds, so…' He turned to face the huddle of newsies. '…We'se gonna have to get creative and share.'

Blink and Mush made no attempt whatsoever to hide their grins.

'Well you four are an easy start,' said Ace, noticing immediately.

'C'mon, we'll show ya where the bunks are,' said Mush, taking Madison by the hand. She and Darlin' looked surprised, but not intimidated, by the fact that they would be sleeping on top bunks.

'Ain't never slept off the ground before,' said Darlin'. 'Should be fun.'

'An' I take it you two...' said Snoddy, indicating to Ace and Jack.

'If that's alright,' said Ace. Jack kissed his thumb and brushed it over her cheek.

''Course it is.'

'What about us?' said Vi, glancing at the boys and the empty bunks. Frames looked skittish, before putting up a hand like a shy schoolgirl.

'Uh, if it's all the same to you, I can sleep on the floor.'

'What?' said half the room in protest.

'No, really, it's fine,' she was quick to say. 'I just…sleepin' next to a boy would feel a little strange, y'know?'

'Likewise for me,' said Rich. 'Nothin' personal.'

'Well,' said Jack, casting his eyes over the newsboys. 'Does anybody feel charitable enough to, I dunno, give up a bed an' share wit' someone else?'

Everyone tried not to meet his gaze, opting for the floor or a random patch of wall instead. Snitch rolled his eyes.

'Oh c'mon, me an' Itey get along wit' it just fine.'

'_Just_,' said Itey, knowing the sight and odor of Snitch's feet better than any human being should. Eventually a small voice piped up from the back.

'You goils can have my bed if ya want.'

'See?' said Jack, gesturing proudly to Tumbler as he emerged from the group. 'There's generosity for ya.'

'Are you sure, hun?' said Frames, basking in his adorableness.

'Yeah.'

'Thank you,' she and Rich said together. Boots raised a hand.

'Wanna share wit' me?'

'Thanks Boots.'

'How about you three?' Jack asked Vi, Skates and Streets.

'I don't mind, actually,' said Vi. Streets and Skates shrugged in agreement. Another awkward silence ensued, eventually broken by Dutchy:

'Hey Race.'

'What?'

'I only just remembered - I saw one a' your cigars in the washroom earlier, unlit.'

'You did?' said Race, suddenly animated. 'Where in the washroom?'

'Mm, can't recall where exactly, but it was definitely one a' yours somewhere in there. Go have a look.'

'Oh I will,' he replied, dashing through the glass doors.

'Speakin' of seein' things,' said Crutchy. 'Streets, I think you left yer hat downstairs.'

The girl's hands went to her head and pockets.

'Aw, rats. Be right back. Thanks Crutchy.'

'No problem.'

Approximately three minutes of searching the washroom stalls, sinks and bathtub later, Racetrack returned to the bunkroom with a peeved expression.

'Dutchy, why'd ya get my hopes up like that?'

'Oh, was it not there?'

'No,' he replied, before narrowing his eyes at Snipeshooter. The boy held up his hands.

'Don't look at me.'

'I just don't appreciate bein' sent on a wild goose chase, that's all.'

Dutchy shrugged, a handful of paper straws in his palm. Before Racetrack could ask where they'd come from, the stairs creaked.

'Oof, I walked right into a table or somethin' down there,' grumbled Streets as she emerged from the darkness. She was about to ask the room if anyone else had seen her hat, when her eyes landed on it, hanging casually from one of the bedposts.

'_Huh?_' Streets grabbed her hat and stared at it in disbelief.

'Why would ya put it there?' asked Vi.

'I…I don't know,' replied Streets, before blinking and deciding to dismiss the strangeness of the situation. 'Anyway, what were we talkin' about?'

'Well, we concluded it'd be fairest an' easiest to draw straws,' said Ace. 'To see who'll share a bed wit' whom.'

'Oh. Okay.'

'Pick a straw, any straw,' said Dutchy, offering the batch. Skittery, Swifty, Pie Eater, Jake, Snaps, Snipeshooter, Specs, Snoddy, Bumlets and Racetrack all drew a length.

'I would offer,' said Crutchy, looking shyly at the girls. 'But, uh, this leg of mine kinda needs the space. Sorry.'

'Oh, don't worry about it,' said Skates quickly. 'We understand.'

'Now I marked three of 'em with colors,' said Dutchy. 'Blue is Skates, Red is Vi, an' green is Streets. Now see what ya got.'

Most of the boys held up blank straws. Swifty looked at his and turned to Skates, unsure of what to say.

'You alright wit' that?'

'Um, sure, yeah,' said Skates honestly. He pointed to the top bunk adjacent to Jack's.

'You can hang yer stuff on the bedpost.'

Meanwhile, Skittery and Vi saw the red line on his straw at the same time, and exchanged the same awkward smile.

And then, rooted to the spot, Race stared at his own, feeling a mixture of he-didn't-quite-know-what.

'You are kidding, right?' he said to Dutchy. 'I mean…right?'

'That's democracy for ya,' replied the newsie, spreading his palms.

Ace and Jack watched from a distance, doing a spectacular job of staying neutral despite laughing hysterically on the inside. Darlin' muffled her giggles in Blink's shirt, while Madison and Mush alike bit down on their lips almost to the point of bleeding.

'Uh-uh. Nope. No way,' said Streets, shaking her head. 'I demand a re-draw.'

'Oh, pipe down Streets,' said Vi, pretending to be grouchier than she actually was. 'It's late, no one can be bothered. Just make it work.'

'But -!'

'You heard her, Streets,' said Ace. 'Deal.'

That was the end of the conversation, but hardly the beginning of Streets' and Race's shared horror.

'C'mon,' said Madison. 'We'll change in the washroom.'

'Good plan,' said Ace.

While they did that, the boys stripped down to their long johns as usual. This time, however, they couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

Similarly, as soon as they were on the other side of the frosted glass doors, Frames had a small anxiety attack.

'They're gonna see us in our nightgowns, ain't they?'

'I didn't even think…' mumbled Darlin', her cheeks firing up. Would Blink comment on her bare arms? How would the other boys see her once she stepped back out? It was all suddenly quite petrifying. Ace removed layer after layer in one of the washroom stalls, folding them as she went. A minute later she stepped out, dressed in her off-white nightgown with quarter-sleeves. Vi emerged at the same time, looking extremely nervous.

'Um…Ace? Unforeseen problem.'

The girls stared at their friend's bare calves. This was a problem.

'…Right,' said their leader bluntly. She strode to the door, opened it wide enough to poke her head around, and called out:

'Hey, fellas?'

Fifteen or so heads looked her way. She smiled in an abnormally saccharine way.

'Don't suppose you'd mind just shieldin' your eyes for a minute or so, just until we get into our respective bunks?'

'Why, youse noivous or somethin'?'

Ace held up her fingers in a pinch: _just a little_. Jack nodded.

'Well you heard her,' he said to the room. The newsies, some of whom rolled their eyes, either lay down with their caps over their faces, or put both hands over their eyes.

'Okay, it's safe.'

Frames and Rich scanned the room like deer at the edge of an open meadow, before scurrying over to Tumbler's lower bunk and tucking themselves evenly under the duvet.

Vi put her upper body around the door to double-check the coast was clear, before letting her lower half walk quickly across to Skittery's bunk. She wished ten times in succession that her nightgown wouldn't rise above the knee as she hauled herself up onto the bed.

Mush sat with his legs hanging off the end of his top bunk, hands over his face. Without hearing her approach, he found Madison separating them. She kissed him on the nose.

'Fancy givin' me a hand?'

'Sure thing, doll,' he said, helping her up.

Skates actually managed to forget where Swifty's bunk was, until he spotted her through the gaps in his fingers and caught her by the shoulder. After jumping about a foot in the air from fright, she quietly laughed it off and clambered up to join him.

Ace hurried her bare feet over the cold floorboards until she reached Jack's bunk.

'Sorry Crutchy,' she muttered, using the edge of his bunk to boost herself up.

'No worries Ace,' he yawned.

Even in the flickering shadows, she could see Jack's earnest smile. He was propped up on his elbows, and swept aside part of the duvet so she could lie next to him. They lay facing each other, and he stroked her arm affectionately.

'Ya look even more beautiful than in the daytime,' he whispered.

'I was about to say the same thing of you.'

For the first time that day, Jack and Ace granted themselves a long, private kiss, before resting their heads on Jack's pillow.

One of the last ones out of the washroom, Darlin' flitted across the room to Blink's bunk. As she did, Snoddy stole a peek from under his cap - in the penumbra of the last lit candle in the room, she looked like a real-life ghost.

'Er, could ya help me up please?' she whispered.

'Ya mean I can look now?' replied Blink.

'Yeah.'

He leaned over the edge and extended a hand. Racetrack, lying on the bunk directly below, couldn't help but watch the girl's legs disappear from sight. He felt the bed frame shift as the couple above him negotiated spaces.

'Ahem.'

He turned and squinted in the dark to find a similarly ghostly silhouette standing by his bunk. As much as he still couldn't believe this was a reality, Race begrudgingly shuffled over to leave half the bed free.

'Go on then, get in.'

Streets slowly knelt on the edge of the mattress, accidentally banging the front of her head on the top bunk.

'Owch…it ain't funny,' she hissed as Race sniggered.

When she slid her legs beneath the duvet, Streets felt a palette of different feelings splash across her: the warmth and comfort underneath the covers was like a slice of Heaven, and yet lying arm to arm, leg to leg, next to Racetrack, was unmatched in its strangeness. On top of that, Streets was instantly irked by the absence of cover on the right side of her body. She tried to sneakily tug the blankets over to her side, but Race was having none of it.

'Don't even think about thinkin' about it,' he muttered. Streets exhaled noisily in frustration, and put her arms rigidly by her sides, as did he. Without discussion, the two of them agreed to endure the night with minimal interaction or movement.

'G'night guys,' said Jack into the darkness, as night took over from the dying candle.

'G'night,' came the various replies, coated in sandy sleep.

**Disclaimer: I should probably specify here that while Snaps isn't technically a named member of the Newsies ensemble we know and love, he's also not **_**mine**_** either - he belongs to the newsie headcanon, as it were, theorized into existence by the bright young minds of the fanfic and blogging community. Speaking of whom…keep sending reviews please ;P**


	4. We Goes Where We Wishes

**Chapter Four**

**We Goes Where We Wishes**

**A/N: Fun fact - I had to edit and re-post the last chapter SIX TIMES because there were continuity (and basic maths) errors everywhere. Embarrassed I am. And now speak Yoda I do. Oh, and thanks to Nicely Nicely's Little Sister ;D**

At some unspecified point during the night, a number of peculiar things happened. Or at least, that was the conclusion Skates came to when she woke up with a head rush and found herself hanging off the side of Swifty's bunk.

She blinked her eyes open in the half-darkness and couldn't immediately recall where or who she was. Upside-down, she made out a figure lighting candles around the room: Kloppman.

'C'mon now,' he announced to the rows of bunks. 'I know it's dark, but youse gotta get yerselves up. It's a brand new day.'

Crutchy and Dutchy, on the bottom bunks either side of Skates, groaned and, rolling over to face her, threw off their duvets in fright.

'Gah!'

Their shock triggered Skates' own startled jump, which caused her to slip and fall off the bunk. The loud thud made for an excellent morning alarm.

'Wha…Skates?' mumbled Ace, leaning over to glance at the floor, barely conscious. 'You okay?'

'Everything hurts,' came the disgruntled reply.

'Here,' said Crutchy, sitting up and offering the handle of his crutch.

'Thanks,' said Skates as she stumbled to her feet, rubbing the back of her head and arms.

'Wow.'

'What, what's wrong?' she said, frowning at Crutchy's stare.

'Nothin', I just never seen ya wit' your hair down, that's all.'

'Oh.' She gathered her curly, dirty blonde hair at the side of her neck before getting her clothes together.

Ace longed to turn back the clock so she could sleep all over again, although when she laid her head back down on the mattress…well, that was precisely what knocked away any remaining comfort. She sat up to find Jack on his side, facing away from her, resting his head on the only pillow, which he'd flipped into a vertical position.

'Cowboy, hey Cowboy!' pestered Kloppman, nudging the comatose Manhattan leader. 'Get up an' at 'em, the headlines are waitin'!'

'You're mad, Klopp...mad as rats...'

Ace rolled her eyes and took over from rousing him. Kloppman moved swiftly on, tugging blankets off other bunks altogether, which worked very well indeed.

'Ah! So cold!' squeaked Vi, tucking her bare legs as far under the hem of her nightgown as they would go.

'I need coffee,' slurred Skittery, sitting up beside her.

A few top bunks over, Mush was awake, but indulged in leaving his eyes closed a little longer as he and Madison spooned.

'Don't let go,' she said.

'Mm,' sighed Mush. 'Believe me, I don't wanna.'

'No I mean seriously,' she said, on edge. 'Don't let go - you're the only thing keepin' me from the floor.'

He opened his eyes in confusion and realized what she meant - somehow they'd both ended up with half the bunk empty, with Madison lying precariously on the edge of the mattress. She held on tight to his arms.

'Oh, sorry peach,' he said, shuffling back over. She sat up and stretched, relieved.

'S'okay. But man…so early…so tired…'

'Tumbler, little Tumbler!' barked Kloppman, standing over a lumpy lower bunk. To his surprise, two pale faces emerged, startled, from under the duvet.

'Huh? Oh,' said Frames, pointing in the vague direction of 'over there'. 'He's wit' Boots.'

'Urgh,' said Rich, flopping back down onto the pillow. 'If the sun ain't up, neither should we.'

'Aw, c'mon Rich,' yawned Frames, rooting around under the bed for her glasses. 'At least our bones ain't gonna turn into icicles if we get up.'

She knelt on the floor to quickly say the Lord's Prayer, but had to put up with the distracting sound of Blink's yelp:

'My other eye's gone blind!'

'No hun…' said Darlin' blearily. 'My hair's just in your face.'

'Oh, phew.' She passed him his eye patch while he brushed away her ice-blonde locks.

Below, Racetrack, a heavy sleeper, was only just coming out of his timeless, placeless, eight-hour hibernation. He heard Kloppman's upbeat morning calls and felt tempted to pull the covers tight over his head. Sighing, he curled up and rolled to the left, hugging his warm pillow.

Except…he didn't remember his pillow ever breathing.

'What are you doin'?'

Race snapped his eyes open to see Streets' lime-flecked green ones mere inches away. They both looked down at his arms, locked around her waist.

'Uh…I…' spluttered Race, his entire vocabulary having fallen out of his head.

'Get off!' said Streets, pushing her foot into his legs, slightly harder than she'd intended: he promptly fell off the mattress. 'Oops.'

Two hands slammed onto the edge of the bunk as Race got himself off the floor. Streets hastily got up to avoid his lethal stare.

'Oh yeah,' he said loudly, grabbing his pants and suspenders. 'Just kick me outta my own _bed_, why don't ya! The _noive_…'

'Pipe down, Mr. Too-Close-For-Comfort.'

The boys cackled at her rejoinder as they slowly pulled themselves together. Ace, Skates and Vi nabbed the three washroom stalls first, and were fully dressed in just under two minutes.

'Wow,' said Jack at the sudden transformation. Ace did up the last button on her shirt.

'We've got real good at this, trust me.'

'Boots,' said Rich, trying to splash cold water on her face. 'What _are_ ya doin'?'

'Pumping,' he replied.

'Yeah, I can see that, but why -'

'Don't bother, Rich,' said Crutchy. 'His elbows got minds a' their own.'

'So d'ya feel better this morning?' asked Jack. The girls nodded.

'I've already stopped soundin' like a chain-smoker,' said Streets, brushing her straight black hair.

'Yeah, and…' Vi trailed off when one of the stall doors opened and closed. She choked on the air. 'Yep, my sense a' smell's definitely back.'

'Jeez louise,' said Skates, holding her nose.

'Hang on,' said Madison, weaving her way back to the bunkroom. 'I'll remedy this.'

Seconds later, she marched around the washroom armed with a purple bottle, spritzing every square inch of air. Anyone who got caught in the line of fire coughed and rubbed their eyes.

'What in heaven's name is that stuff?' spluttered Itey.

'Extract of Violet,' replied Madison. The girls nodded in approval at this distinct change of musk.

'Prefer the stopper bottles myself,' said Vi. 'But to each his own.'

Skittery, at the sink next to her, watched with fascination at the ritual she and Madison shared across the counter: a dab on the wrists, the neck, and behind the ears.

'Hey Streets,' said Ace. 'Pass a towel?'

'Sure,' she replied, picking one up from the corner of a sink and tossing it over the counter. As soon as she did, she shrieked.

'Spider!'

Because her instinct wasn't exactly choosy, Streets leapt off the floor and into the unsuspecting arms of the nearest body. Needless to say, Race was taken aback:

'What am I, a hat stand?!'

Skates shook her head and, patiently, bobbed over to the aforementioned spider. She scooped it into her cupped palms.

'It's alright, Streets, I got this.' She went to the window.

'You really need to relax about this irrational fear, y'know,' said Ace, tying her hair.

'Says the one who almost faints every time she looks down from a tall buildin'.'

Ace knew to shut up. Skates came back, brushing her palms free.

'Dealt with.'

'Thanks,' said Streets, apparently oblivious to the fact that her arms were still around Race's neck. He looked around the room, exasperated.

'In yer own time, by all means.'

'…Oh, right,' said Streets, coming out of her relief. She hastily set herself down and scuttled to fetch her cap.

'I swear,' said Race, massaging his temples. 'Those straws last night were rigged just to give me mornings like this. I mean _really_…'

Everyone averted his gaze and stifled their laughter.

By four o' clock, Skates was sold out of papers and absolutely ecstatic about it. The Manhattan newsies had noticed that morning that she'd slung a bag over her shoulder, but didn't ask what was inside.

Now, having told Rich she'd meet her later back at Duane Street, Skates stood in the south part of Central Park, at the edge of the lake. Overnight it had transformed from a busy, rippling surface of water to a sheet of smooth, frosted ice. Ducks sheltered at the foot of trees and under bridges, but in the meantime, the lake was all Skates's.

There were track marks from other visitors earlier in the day, but at this time, when all the children were in their last hour of school and women of the house were starting to prepare supper, the lake was empty.

She knelt down in the frozen grass and took out her most treasured skating boots, handmade by her mother and father when she was seven, with the size adjusted each year as her feet grew. It would be the first time she went skating without them watching.

Skates winced as she forced her feet into the boots. She'd tried her best to squeeze and soften the leather, but the hard material still bit her stiffly on the toes. After a minute of solid persistence, however, she was able to tie the laces in firm knots, and wobble her way up from the ground to a standing position.

She may have been skating every winter since she was five, but Skates still felt the tremor of fear, the charge of giddiness, every time she took that first step onto the ice, testing its thickness.

Arms out for balance, she let herself drift, feet parallel and away from the grass. She gradually pushed down, left, right, left right, in a V-shape until she picked up some speed. From then on, as always, it felt natural.

Stray snowflakes fluttered down from the sky and kissed her face. The air whistled a breezy melody as she gained momentum, circling the perimeter of the lake. She steadied herself and dared to move towards the center, where the ice was at its thickest. Skates put one foot in front of the other, focused straight ahead, and raised her back leg until it arabesqued off the surface. Soon she was at a ninety-degree angle, one arm in front and one to the side, gliding. This was even better than Christmas.

Crutchy hobbled past snow-topped trees, taking extra care not to slip on a patch of ice and fall, although the main path had been salted down well enough. He'd intended to be back at the lodging house by half past four, not expecting any distractions along the way. Until he reached the south lake.

At first he simply watched a figure he thought was a stranger, until he noticed Skates's bag sitting on the side. Crutchy stared at the swooping, turning person anew, and moved closer onto the frosty grass.

He'd seen couples and families ice skate as a fun leisure activity before, but Skates was on her own, and very much embracing it. He'd never seen anything like this, it was so…free. She made gravity work to her liking, staying balanced on one foot even when she was speeding along, horizontal, practically flying. Skates seamlessly placed her other foot back on the ice, before lifting her knee to her chest and, turning on the lake's circle, extending her whole leg up to her head. She held onto the gap where blade met shoe, and let herself ride the rest of the way on a precarious angle, leaning back into the air.

Crutchy didn't dare call her name, for fear of startling her into a tumble, but when she set her leg back down and slowed up, he waved eagerly.

'Skates! Hey Skates!'

She turned her head like a squirrel that has just realized it isn't alone. When she caught sight of the newsboy, she changed track and turned, sliding her feet past each other as the ice delivered her to the edge.

'Crutchy, what a surprise,' she smiled, cheeks red and breathless.

'I was just on my way back home, but then I saw ya, and…well, wow.'

'Ha, thanks,' she beamed.

'Guess now I know why dey call ya Skates. You're real good.'

'Thank you. It's just so much fun. Every year, soon as the nearest body a' water's frozen over, I am on it.'

She was on the verge of inviting him to try it, but her eyes reminded her that was, if not impossible, then at least spectacularly out of the question.

'I'd sure love to join ya,' said Crutchy, reading her mind. 'But…well. It don't matter - watchin' ya's somethin' magical.'

'Aw, you're too sweet,' she said. 'Wanna sit wit' me while I get my boots off?'

'Sure,' he replied, easing himself down on his crutch. 'That all ya wanna do today?'

'Yeah, I was about to head back anyway,' she said, unlacing the knots. Her pants would be freezing cold by the time they got back, from sitting in the snow. But that was a small price to pay for the experience.

'So how was sellin'?'

'Better than I expected,' said Crutchy, rubbing his gloved hands together. 'People were even more generous around me than usual.'

'Must be the season,' said Skates, leaning right back to tug her boots off.

'You bet,' said Crutchy, gazing at the whiteness all around them. 'Snow just makes everythin' more special somehow. Sometimes I pretend the world is God's cake, and snow is the icing sugar He sifts over it.'

Skates started putting on her other shoes, shaking her head with a grin.

'You are somethin' else Crutchy, ya know that?'

'I aim to please,' he said, shrugging. When Skates had brushed the shredded ice from her blades, she wrapped them up carefully in an old towel and put them back in her bag. She stood, buttoned her coat, and offered a hand to Crutchy.

'Thanks Skates.'

They wandered back along the path in the direction of Duane Street. Excited schoolchildren pelted each other with snowballs on their routes home; a painter stood concentrating on his easel and canvas, trying to capture Central Park in the winter sunset; street vendors ambled past with their carts of wares, energy expended for the day.

'Boy am I lookin' forward to more of that stew,' said Skates.

'Same here,' nodded Crutchy, noticing that she walked deliberately slowly to let him keep up. 'So how's sharin' a bunk goin', if ya don't mind my askin', that is?'

'No, it's fine,' she said, delving for warmth in her coat pockets. 'Swifty's okay, I s'pose, although you saw the way I ended up this mornin'. Guess we both toss an' turn in strange ways.'

'Yeah,' chuckled Crutchy. 'Me, I stay straight as the bedposts. Like I said before, I'd have offered to share, but this leg a' mine don't take kindly to stayin' bent fer too long.'

'Hey, don't worry about it,' said Skates. 'I completely, one hundred percent understand. Wouldn't dream of askin' if it was gonna hurt ya.'

'I just thought you should know I really would, offer,' he said, catching her eye and smiling shyly. Skates said nothing, but smiled too.

'Say, are you and the goils goin' to Medda's on Saturday?'

'Medda's?'

'Yeah…oh, I guess you ain't never really been. Medda's a vaudeville performer, an' she runs the theater over at Irving Hall. We newsies are real welcome there.'

'Irving Hall…yeah, I know it.'

'That's where the fellas held their big rally durin' the strike, y'know, before everythin' got kinda messy. Medda still lets us take in shows wit' all the other 'Hattan newsies though, at real cheap prices.'

'An' you're all goin' on Saturday?'

'Yeah. Should be grand,' said Crutchy, grinning. 'An', well, it'd be even more fun if ya came along.'

'Sure,' said Skates as they exited the park. 'I'd really like that.'

'Swell,' beamed Crutchy. The more Skates looked his way, the more she found herself grinning right along with him.

**A/N: Like ice-skating? Like snow? Like happiness? Then review and tell me all about it! :D**


	5. Ain't I Pretty

**Chapter Five**

**Ain't I Pretty**

**A/N: 2 updates in one day? I spoil you guys sometimes :P Thanks once again to the consistently kind reviews of Nicely Nicely's Little Sister ;)**

After another two nights of getting used to their odd room-sharing habits, the Manhattan and Riverside newsies were relieved to relax in a setting outside the lodging house with even more warmth: Irving Hall.

'Evenin', evenin',' said Spot, leading his Brooklyn crew into the auditorium, which was healthily packed to the walls with Manhattan's newsies. He waved at Jack, Ace and David, pulling up a seat next to them.

'How's yer river view lookin' in this weather?' asked Jack.

'Frozen over,' replied Spot, unlooping a thick scarf from around his neck. 'But we're copin'. Heard you guys are co-habitin' now.'

'Spot,' said Ace. 'How in the hell d'you end up learnin' about everything?' He shrugged, twirling his gold-topped cane.

'What can I say, I got a lotta boids on me shoulders. Anyway, how's it workin' out?' He pointed between Ace and Jack. She slid an arm around his waist.

'Well, it's provin' to be…an experience. I'm certainly learnin' more about Jack's little quirks than I thought I ever would.'

'Quirks?' said David, looking mischievously intrigued. 'Like what?'

'Oh I don't know, maybe the fact that he's a consistent pillow-stealer, or…' Ace broke off into a laugh, '…or that he sings to himself when he shaves.'

David and Spot chuckled, while Jack half-smiled and thought up a good counter to deflect further ridicule:

'Yeah, okay then, Ms. Restless Legs, who _sleep-laughs_.'

'What?' said David, slack-jawed. Ace looked just as surprised.

'Since when do I laugh in my sleep?'

'All your life,' said Vi, joining their conversation with a gin and tonic. 'But it's okay,' she added, at Ace's mortified expression. 'Why would ya know? I bet I do weird things in my sleep that Skittery's too polite to point out.'

'Huh,' said Ace, frowning. 'As the socks said to the needle: 'I'll be darned.''

'What are you even laughin' at in yer sleep anyways?' asked Vi.

'Your face, probably.'

The boys cracked up around the table as a small hand-slap war broke out between the two friends. It subsided, however, when the string section sounded up from the orchestra pit. A grand piano banged out a cheery ragtime number, which Vi couldn't help but bob along to.

'These guys are good,' she said, taking sips of her drink.

'Shame ya didn't bring your violin along.'

'Hmm,' nodded Vi thoughtfully, gazing up at the curtained stage.

'Just wait until Medda comes out,' said Jack. 'Then the show really kicks off.'

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, the curtains lifted to reveal an idyllic painted backdrop, a dainty bridge in the middle of the stage, and a redheaded woman leaning against it, dressed head to toe in sky blue silk and ruffles.

'Well that's, er, interesting,' said Vi, exchanging uncertain looks with Ace. The latter caught sight of Jack's enchanted face to her left, and she took a large swig of rum in response: _Oh, I see. Fine, fine_. Lust occupied an entirely different sphere from love. She knew that, and she accepted that, but it didn't make the collective staring of the newsboys any less creepy.

'Ain't she old enough to be their mudda?' whispered Vi. Ace kept her face very still except for muttering lips.

'More like an aunt who knows how to have a good time, by the looks of it.'

'_Take up a glass/ Swing up your hands/ Kick your feet back and/ Have a good time_,' warbled Medda, 'the Swedish Meadowlark', smiling warmly at the faces of the boys she knew and cared about. '_The day is done/ Now let's have some fun/ Don't be afraid to / Have a good time_...'

By the end of the number, Ace had to admit that the woman knew how to entertain an audience. She curtseyed and, when the cheering eventually died down, appointed herself as MC.

'Evening, newsies! Are you all having a grand time?'

'Woo!' came the resounding, deafening reply. The girls joined in too, thoroughly soaking up the atmosphere. Medda's smile twinkled impressively in the bold stage lights.

'Glad to hear it! I'll be back a little later…' (more cheers) '…but for now I'll hand over to my fabulous magician friend, the Wizard of Wonder!'

A respectable amount of applause followed, but it was clear that the boys' interest dwindled when anyone but Medda was on stage. Conversations, card games and drinks orders resumed as a man in his late thirties strode up, robed in midnight blue, with a box of tricks.

'How's he doin' that, then?' Madison asked aloud, watching the magician with more fascination than the rest of her table combined. Mush glanced over his shoulder as the man removed the pane of glass he had apparently just stabbed with a knife from a brown paper bag. It was completely intact.

'Who knows,' he said. 'Maybe he really is a wizard.'

'Nah, there's always a trick behind the trick,' said Madison, tilting her head.

'Rats,' said Skittery, hands flat against his jacket pockets. 'I'm outta matches.'

'Wait a sec…' said Madison, shuffling her arms up and down before tilting her sleeve down to the center of the table. 'Here ya go.'

Skittery, Mush, Streets, Rich and Racetrack watched a green case of matches slide out from her cuff.

'Uh…thank you,' said Skittery, tentatively picking up the case, as if he were hallucinating.

'Dis guy…' remarked Race, smiling incredulously. 'What else ya got up there? A toothbrush?'

'Ooh, actually...'

Race's eyes all but fell out of his head when a wooden toothbrush promptly zoomed out of her sleeve.

'Holy cats on a church roof,' he muttered, taking a long drag on his cigar. The girls laughed.

'Hey Crutchy,' said Skates, approaching the boy's secluded table with two drinks in her hands. 'Want some rum an' soda?'

'Gee, thanks Skates,' he said. 'Y'know I was just feelin' a little thirsty. Wanna have a seat?'

'Sure,' she said, pulling up the only other chair next to him. 'How come you're all by yourself?'

'Oh, Boots an' Swifty got roped into a card game wit' some a' the guys from Brooklyn, an' Blink…well, Blink has Darlin'.'

She looked where he was looking: up in the corner of a balcony, said newsies were kissing tenderly, lost in their own world. Without meaning to, Skates and Crutchy let their smiles drop.

'Somethin' wrong?'

'Wit' me?' said Crutchy. 'No, not at all.'

Skates gave him a wry look until he caved.

'I'm fine, honest. You know me, I'm a happy guy.'

'Oh of course,' said Skates sincerely. 'You're a real oyster, through an' through. But…'

'But…' he conceded. 'Silly as it is, when I see that goin' on,' (he thumbed back at the balcony) 'well, it brings my mood down a little, y'know?'

'Talk to me, Crutchy,' she said, tasting the sweet tang of her rum and coke.

'If I can be poifectly honest wit' ya…'

'Which you can.'

'…I don't know if a goil's ever gonna take notice a' me, let me court her, even let me kiss her, the way guys like Blink, Jack an' Mush do.' The boy cupped his hands around his glass. 'Make no mistake though,' he said adamantly. 'I ain't a fan of self-pity, no sir.'

'That's real good,' said Skates, listening intently.

'But even I get these moments a'…not pity…doubt. That's the word. Skates, I'm a nice guy, ain't I?'

'The nicest I know.'

'But maybe that's my curse,' he said. This was a more somber side of Crutchy she'd never seen before. 'Maybe I'm forever doomed to be the nice guy, the always-a-friend, but never anythin' more.'

Skates felt profoundly sad for him at that moment, and it came from a place in her heart she didn't recognize. The boy looked over at the crutch propped up on the table and shook his head.

'I always try to think the best a' people, but it's hard fer me not to wonder if bein' a cripple doesn't factor into this somehow.'

'Hey,' said Skates, putting her drink on the table. She shuffled her chair closer and looked him firmly in the eyes. 'Stop thinkin' that right now, ya hear? So you got a limp. That's just a small fact that says absolutely nothin' about Crutchy the person.'

He stared back at her, reversing their roles as listener and talker.

'Now I may not have known you as long as the boys,' continued Skates. 'But I can tell ya without the least bit a' hesitation that you, Crutchy, are the sweetest, brightest, most interestin' soul I've ever crossed paths with, an' if you go your whole life without someone declarin' their love for ya, I swear I'll eat my hat.'

Crutchy broke into the smile he wore so often. He and Skates laughed together, making the small candle on their table flicker in the dim light of the auditorium.

'Aw, Skates,' he said quietly. 'You're a real angel, y'know.'

She blushed, knocking back the rest of her drink.

'If it makes ya feel any better,' she said, leaning in confidentially. 'I have yet to so much as kiss a boy on the cheek.'

'No,' said Crutchy in genuine disbelief. 'Dat can't be true.'

'It's as true as the both of us sittin' here.'

'Well I never,' he said with a half-smile. A thoughtful pause elapsed before he spoke up again:

'Hey Skates.'

'Yeah?'

'You ever imagine what it's like to be kissed?'

She went to take another sip of rum, but remembered that she'd already finished it.

'Sure,' she replied. 'But imagination only gets ya so far on such a subject. Have you?'

'Quite a bit,' he confessed. 'But I ain't no expert. Until it happens, I might as well be wonderin' how many stars there are in the sky.'

'Well,' began Skates, one elbow resting on the table. 'I always guess that it starts wit' a gesture, like, y'know, holdin' hands.'

As a demonstration, she put her hand on top of Crutchy's, in the middle of the table, and let it rest there. Their skinny fingers were roughly the same length, and equally warm.

'Then,' she said. 'I s'pose what happens next is you lean in real close, so it's like only the two of ya exist in the world.'

By this point Skates had closed the distance between herself and Crutchy so much that their knees met. He let her slide his hand off the table and into the remaining space. Without thinking about it, he found her other hand and held that too.

'An' then,' she murmured, looking at her lap. 'If the two people really want it to happen…'

She pulled her gaze back to his eyes, brown as acorns and full of life. Skates could feel her heart ready to break through her ribcage.

'Then I guess it'll just…'

She didn't finish her sentence: she was physically compelled not to. What replaced any unsaid words between her and Crutchy were their breaths, spiced and hot like mulled wine, intertwining before being locked between their lips.

For both of them, it was a singular moment that could last a lifetime. It was new and thrilling, but as soon as they realized it was happening, they eased into the kiss as if they'd known how to do it their whole lives.

'…Oh my god.'

'What?' said Ace and Jack together. Vi could only cover her mouth and point to a corner of the auditorium, close to the stage, but just out of the lights.

'Ohhh…' Ace felt tears prick her eyes, which was about as rare an event as a shooting star. 'Oh that's just beautiful.'

'Well I'll be…' said Spot, catching sight too. 'Who's that?'

'Skates,' sighed Vi, watching her friend like a proud mother. 'Aw, I'm gonna cry, I swear.'

'Good for Crutchy,' remarked David, who also couldn't help but smile.

'Yeah,' nodded Jack. He squeezed Ace's shoulder and felt uplifted. 'Real, real good.'

'No _way_,' whispered Mush, excitedly patting Race's arm to get his attention.

'What, what - oh my.'

Streets, Madison and Rich could only gasp when they saw who Crutchy was sharing his first kiss with.

'Our Crutchy's really growin' up…' said Skittery in a surprisingly heartfelt way.

'Oh boy, just wait till tonight's over,' said Race, watching the couple with everyone else at the table. 'Those two ain't gonna hear the end a' this for quite some time.'

Blissfully unaware of their audience, Crutchy leaned forward in his chair, holding Skates's face as their kiss deepened. Effortlessly, she moved from her own chair gently onto his lap, bringing them to their absolute closest.

**A/N: Yay, fluffy romance for all ^_^ Yeah, so apparently I'm feeling more musical with this story! I got to Medda's appearance and just felt like it would be weird **_**without**_** a song, so I pulled those lyrics out of thin air, which is probably why they're so cheesy XD Share your thoughts below!**

**AA/N: In days of yore, 'oyster' meant 'a jolly fellow', or at least that's what the Internet told me.**


	6. Front Page Story

**Chapter Six**

**Front Page Story**

**A/N: Many a thanks to Stardust, Nicely Nicely's Little Sister, and Ealasaid Una, for your reviews :D**

'I do not.'

'Oh yes you do.'

'No I _don't_.'

'Ace, Madison, anybody?' said Racetrack, waiting in line the following Monday. 'Back me up here - Streets snores, right?'

'Tell him I don't!'

'Well…' said Ace from further up towards the desk. 'It ain't completely false.'

Streets clenched her fists.

'Appreciate the support,' she muttered, before needling Race with her eyes. 'So what if I snore a little? You're a blanket thief.'

'Excuse me?'

'Yeah, that's right,' she said as the line shuffled forward. 'The past four nights youse stolen the covers right off a' me.'

'Well they are _my blankets_.'

'But I'm the one wit' colder bones, I need the warmth.'

'Got that right,' muttered Race. He stepped out of the way in time to avoid Streets' hand as she tried, in vain, to smack him on the head.

'Y'know,' said Pie Eater, standing awkwardly in between them. 'If youse guys could stop yer bickerin' for, like, half a minute, that'd be swell.'

'I'd be happy to,' said Streets. 'But he keeps findin' somethin' new to grouse about!'

'Good God, woman,' blurted Race as he reached the collection desk. 'I grouse 'cause ya give me a neverendin' supply a' things to grouse about!'

He exhaled in exasperation and fished out two bits for his papes. While he waited for Wiesel to hand them over, Race caught Morris Delancey throwing him and Streets a shady look.

'Woman?'

Had Streets not jumped in when she did, everything might have gone disastrously wrong.

'Oh sure, real original insult, callin' me a woman - thought you were king a' wisecracks, Race.'

'…I am,' replied Race slowly. 'An' don't forget it, ya chump.'

He slid his papes off the counter and walked away to scan the headlines (and to get away from the Delanceys before they could ask further questions).

Streets waited for Pie Eater and most of the other newsies to head out of the gates before she slipped around the side of the distribution center to confront Racetrack. Her hand went to cuff him round the ear, but he caught her wrist without so much as glancing up from the morning edition.

'Just say it an' move on.'

'What, that you're an idiot?'

'Yeah, that,' said Race, letting go of her hand. 'Won't happen again.'

'Damn right it won't happen again,' said Streets. 'Hey.'

She snatched the paper out of his hands with a quiet ferocity, re-focusing his attention.

'Listen an' listen good, Racetrack,' she muttered, jabbing a finger at him. 'I an' the goils have worked too hard an' risked too much fer you to blab an' blow our cover now. So when you say it won't happen again, I need to be as reassured about it as the sun comin' up tomorrow. _Is it gonna happen again_?'

Race lit a cigarette in an effort to look cool and unfazed. He blew out a thin tunnel of smoke, which vanished into an icy breeze, and kept his eyes level with hers.

'It ain't gonna happen again.'

'Good,' she responded, just as measuredly.

'Hey!' Wiesel barked from the open side window. 'Get outta here already - them papes ain't gonna sell themselves!'

'Alright, alright,' yelled Race.

'We ain't deaf,' retorted Streets, tucking her papes under her arm. When the two of them turned back into the clearing, they halted their tracks in the snow: the place was deserted.

'Aw, what?' moaned Streets. She and Race cast wary looks at one another, before he rolled his eyes.

'C'mon…I bet most of 'em are takin' Central Park.'

* * *

'Well, well, well,' said Skates to Crutchy, nudging him and Ace with both elbows. They glanced at the approaching couple. It was obvious from their surly expressions how much they were trying to avoid conversation.

'Let's give her a break,' said Ace, waving Streets over. The girl didn't hide her relief in hurrying their way.

'Oh, thank goodness,' she breathed. 'Thought I'd be stuck wit' him the rest a' the day.'

She looked back at Race, who strode down another path to meet Mush and Blink, selling at a spot by the frozen fountain.

'Don't be such a hot air artist, Streets,' chided Skates, albeit cheerfully. 'I mean I know he kinda annoys ya, but Racetrack's a real oyster when ya get to know him.'

'Oh believe me, I'm gettin' ta know him more than I ever wanted,' said Streets, extending a paper out to the public. She smiled when a fur-coated businessman bought it from her. She didn't even have to shout out a headline - he was a man who simply needed to stay informed, whatever the news.

'His blanket thievery must really get ya down, huh?' joked Ace, changing hands with a customer of her own.

'It ain't just that,' said Streets, shaking her head. 'Anytime I speak, move, breathe, he's on my case. It's like my very existence offends him, an' he's devisin' ways to cheese me off every wakin' moment.'

'Streets, if I may,' said Crutchy, sharing a meaningful look with Skates and Ace. 'Has it ever occurred to ya that Race is doin' all that pesterin' 'cause he…I dunno…has the hots for ya?'

Streets was so shocked by this hypothesis that Ace had to take the penny out of the next customer's hand on her behalf.

'Crutchy…' said Streets, her expression glazed. 'I don't know what I find more unsettlin': your suggestion, or the fact that ya just used the phrase 'has the hots for'.'

'I think what he's tryin' to say,' said Ace. 'Is that love ain't always expressed conventionally. I mean for cryin' out loud, look at me an' Jack.'

'They make a great pair 'cause frankly, half the time, they're snarkin' at each other,' said Skates jauntily. Ace nodded. 'You an' Race ain't no different, an' I think you know it.'

If there was a bench by Streets' legs, she would have collapsed onto it.

'Am I hearin' right today, did I wake up this mornin'? Because it sounds like you're tryin' to mess wit' my head an' insinuate what ain't true.'

'The lady doth protest too much,' intoned Ace and Skates, before bursting into laughter.

'Shaddup, both a' youse,' hissed Streets, batting their arms with a rolled up paper. 'I don't need this. I'll find my own turf to sell on.'

'Suit yerself,' said Crutchy, waving cheerily.

Streets walked away with purpose, down a gentle slope of snow-blanketed grass. She distracted herself from ruminations on her friends' outlandish idea by shielding the winter sun from her eyes and scouting out another selling spot.

'Ooh, a lamp post, they're always good.'

Streets put one foot out, and the next thing she knew the world was nothing but sky.

'Ow…'

As she pressed her hands into the freezing grass to push herself up, something blocked the sun from her eyes.

'Y'know,' said Racetrack, looking down at her. 'If yer real name were Grace, then this'd be a deliciously ironic moment fer us all.'

To her mild surprise, he offered a hand. With a snide smile, Streets took it…and didn't hesitate to yank him down face-first into the snow.

* * *

'Hey Kid,' said Mush back in the comfortable lodging house lobby. 'Where _did_ Race disappear off to?'

'Don't know,' replied Blink, reclining in an armchair. 'But wherever he went, he oughta be back by now.'

'Speak a' the devil,' said Rich, as the aforementioned newsie walked through the front door. He held his cap by his side, which dripped across the floor. Streets followed shortly after him, and they both looked as fed up as each other.

'Do you know?' began Racetrack loudly, putting a premature end to all other conversations in the room. 'Do you know what dis goil did ta' me this afternoon?'

'What happened?' asked Jack.

'Oh I'll tell ya what happened.'

'Of course he will,' griped Streets, crossing her arms.

'So first off, this klutz falls down in Central Park an', me bein' the gentleman that I am, I go to help her up. What does she do? She shoves my face into the snow.'

'I didn't _shove_ -'

'Secondly,' interrupted Race, engaging the room with wide arm gestures. 'Even though I refrain from any sorta retaliation after dis treatment -'

'Ya called me an ungrateful, uppity shrimp,' interjected Streets. Race turned around and pointed his soaked hat at her.

'Not five minutes later she throws my _hat_ into the _one part a' the lake which ain't frozen over_, leavin' me to stick my hand in water that's who-knows-how-many-degrees-below-zero and fish it out.'

'Listen, I didn't 'throw' your hat anywhere,' snapped Streets. 'I was makin' an angry, slightly over-the-top gesture wit' one a' my papes, an' the hat _accidentally_ went flyin' into the lake. I offered to help get it out! But someone was too proud to accept my help…'

Race snorted, pointing to his chest and glancing at the rest of the room.

'Oh, oh dat's funny. I'm too proud? _I'm _too proud? The noive of this goil, I tell ya! Dutchy, you can take yer democracy an' throw it out the window, 'cause I ain't spendin' another night wit' her, no way…'

He whirled back to her and continued ranting, but Streets tuned out. She kept her arms crossed and her expression the same, but inside, something overturned itself.

She'd thought nothing of Ace, Skates and Crutchy's remarks at the time, really. But standing here, watching the sheer passion with which Racetrack complained, yakked, went into histrionics _about her_, made Streets see him very, very differently.

She gazed at him, watching his personality amplify every action. It sparked out of his eyes, so dark and dynamic that they demanded attention, put her at the center of the words he shot out like flaming arrows. For the first time, Streets let herself soak up his energy and admire his face in the firelight.

It wasn't until Race paused mid-sentence that she snapped out of her trance, back to his voice and the background noise behind it. He frowned and looked over his shoulder, trying to follow her stare.

'Is she - are you even _listenin'_ to me? She ain't even listenin' to me. I give up,' he said, throwing his hands to the ceiling. 'What are you even starin' -'

In approximately two steps forward, Streets locked her hands around his jaw and pulled their lips together. This one action made half the newsies in the room gasp as their breath seized up in their chests; Crutchy would have dropped to the floor had Skates not caught him, slack-jawed, under the arms when his crutch slid down.

The kiss caught Race so off guard that when it was over, a long five seconds later, he could only utter four hoarse words:

'Jesus, Mary an' Joseph…'

He and Streets were all but paralyzed by the ensuing silence. He stared into her charged green eyes as her mouth tried to make words happen.

'…I don't know why.'

'Can we do it again?'

'Oh yes.'

And then they were kissing again. He reached one hand up to her face and let the other trail down her back.

From the couches and chairs, the staircase and walls, the newsies broke out of their shock and cheered up a storm.

'What's goin' on out there?' came Kloppman's voice from behind his office door. Thinking on his feet, Itey tipped Snoddy's chair backwards to temporarily obstruct the doorway.

'Nuttin' Kloppman!' shouted Snoddy.

'Raceyyyy!' hollered Snitch, applauding along with Mush, Blink, Darlin' and Madison.

'FINALLY,' yelled Ace and Jack above the clamor. They laughed together, and he tugged her towards him to kiss her on the forehead.

The noise got even louder when Race dipped Streets backwards. Her hat fell to the floor, letting her plaited black hair hang free. Frames instinctively leapt forward to cover Tumbler's eyes when the pair moved into a French kiss.

'Alright Streets,' remarked David appreciatively, clapping with the rest of them. As soon as his eyes moved to the door, however, he froze. Even amidst the whoops and whistles, his voice cut through like a warning siren:

'Denton.'

**A/N: OH THE AWKWARDNESS. Find out where this goes next time...which will be soon, don't worry! ;D In the meantime, review, review, and then review a third time for good luck :P**


	7. Read 'Em And Weep

**Chapter Seven**

**Read 'Em And Weep**

**A/N: Thank you, thrice over, to Stardust, Ealasaid Una, and arosequartz. Seriously, reviews wake me up on my phone's email alert, so if I read one half-asleep, it makes me say, Tony-the-Tiger style, 'THIS IS GONNA BE A GRR-EAT DAY!' :P**

'Boys…?'

The contrast in sound could not have been more stark: the newsies were hushed as soon as the gray-suited man stepped into the lobby. Racetrack and Streets noticed the change and, still in each other's arms, looked his way. None of the girls had their hats on.

'I…' said Denton hoarsely, before clearing his throat. 'When you weren't over at Tibby's, I thought I'd find you all here. Looks like I was right…and then some.'

'Denton, we can explain,' said Jack.

'Yes, please. Do,' he said. From the office, Kloppman finally pushed Snoddy out of the way and stopped at the edge of his desk. Ace gulped, slowly descending the stairs.

'D'you remember me, sir?' she said. Denton frowned at her with shadows of recognition across his features. 'I'm Ace. David introduced me to ya in the public library a while back.'

'So you are…' remarked Denton.

'As you can see,' continued Ace, trying to send reassuring glances towards her friends. 'Dave an' I omitted a few details. These newsgirls are my dearest friends. We sell papes under male identities an' have recently taken up lodgings here, until the cold winter's over. I'm…sorry if this offends you.'

She stated all of this in calm formality, forcing herself to keep eye contact with the news reporter. He held his hat in his hands and looked mildly dizzy.

'Ya wanna sit down, Denton?' said Specs, offering his chair. He accepted.

'Thanks. So…you dress as newsboys in public like the rest of them?' he clarified, gesturing to the Manhattan newsies. Ace nodded.

'And no one else is aware of it?'

'Just a handful of the leaders from other boroughs,' said Ace. 'But aside from them, not a soul. And,' she added with stern eyes. 'You understand, we'd like for it to stay that way.'

'Yes, yes,' said Denton, still bewitched by disbelief. Streets and Racetrack stood a little apart, their faces steeped in embarrassment.

'I'm sorry we lied to you,' said David, joining Ace at her side. 'Are you angry?'

'Not angry,' said Denton. 'So much as shocked. Now…normally one can give way to the other, but I'd like to give you the benefit of the doubt.'

He regarded Ace with a mixture of fascination and puzzlement.

'Why would you choose to live like this? If a member of the public, or worse - a police officer, found out about you, they wouldn't hesitate to prosecute.'

'Wait, can they do that?' said Jack, descending the stairs.

'I've never risked findin' out,' said Ace soberly. 'But I always presumed they can, yes.'

'As far as I'm aware,' said Denton, 'the State of New York has no explicit statutes against a person dressing in the clothes opposite to their gender, but you could easily be charged with identity fraud, or something along similar lines. You girls have chosen an incredibly dangerous path.'

'With all due respect, Denton,' said Ace. 'Any alternative lifestyles don't bear thinkin' about whatsoever, at least not for me.'

'Or me,' said Darlin.

'What they said,' nodded Rich.

Skates spoke up from Crutchy's side:

'If we didn't disguise ourselves, our families would've tracked us down months ago.'

'So you're all runaways?'

'Yes sir.'

'What are you running from?'

'I don't think we'd be comfortable discussin' that with, if you'll allow me, a complete stranger.'

'It's alright, Ace,' said David. 'Denton's one of the most trustworthy people we know.'

The reporter gave a small appreciative smile.

'Be that as it may,' said Ace, still expressionless. 'We prefer to keep our pasts in the past. All you need to know is that we're here, tryin' to make a living like anybody else, and, well…'

She looked around at the rest of the room. Her brown eyes thawed out of their icy stare. '…These guys are quickly becomin' the best family we've ever had the fortune to find.'

Jack broke out into a grin and interlaced his fingers with hers. Denton raised his eyebrows.

'Oh, I see…' He glanced at Racetrack and Streets. 'And I take it you two have only just got together?'

'How on earth did ya guess?' said Rich with a sly chuckle.

'Call it a reporter's intuition,' replied Denton, winking at the new couple.

The tension in the lobby quickly melted away: Ace introduced Denton to the other Riverside girls, and the boys re-grouped themselves in a circle around the hearth for a much-needed catch-up.

* * *

The next morning brought no fresh snow, but the streets were still dusted with white powder from the last few days. The air was cold, but lively with the newsies' chatter, the dark dawn sky just beginning to cast light over the city.

As the newsies waited in their usual line for collection, Skittery nodded over at the gates.

'Hey, look who it is.'

'Who?' said Crutchy.

'The wanderin' mother.'

'Dear me,' sighed Crutchy, craning his neck to see over the heads of the other newsies. 'All dese months later an' she still ain't found her son.'

'Sorry, excuse me,' mumbled the woman, wrapped in her frayed shawls and skirts. Despite having seen their faces many times before, she lightly rested a cold hand on the shoulders of every other newsboy, searching for the face she clung to desperately in her memory.

'No,' she sighed. 'No…you're not him…no…'

'Man,' muttered Racetrack in between puffs of his cigarette. 'She just don't give up.'

He, Skittery and Crutchy shuffled forward as the line moved on. Ace paused before she laid down her fifty cents.

'In two minds about payin' me, kid?' said Wiesel.

'Just wanna test ya on somethin',' she said coolly, perching an elbow on the counter. 'What's my name?'

The clerk opened his mouth, closed it, and resorted to flicking back through his records.

'Fine, if ya care so damn much,' he said, taking eighty papers from Oscar and sliding them over. 'Here are yer papes, _Ace_.'

'At last, all is right with the world.'

Skates laughed as she stepped up next.

'Mornin'.'

'Patrick…darling,' groaned the mother as she wandered further into the distribution square. She really shouldn't have been there, but even Wiesel wasn't about to turn a grieving woman away - she'd leave in her own time.

'Well?' he asked Skates impatiently. 'How many d'ya want?'

The newsie didn't answer him - instead, she slowly put a question to Crutchy over her shoulder:

'…What did she just say?'

'Patrick?'

The woman stopped in her tracks and stared open-mouthed up the wooden ramp, as if caught in a strange dream. The newsies watched as an emotion crossed her face that they had never seen before: recognition.

'Oh…oh, Patrick! Oh my sweet Patrick, I've found you!'

Everything came to a standstill when she hurried to the front desk and threw her arms around Skates.

'Mother,' gasped Skates, her body locked into place. She and Ace shared looks of raw panic.

'It's a miracle!' cried the woman, hugging her child tightly. 'Time and again I have searched these streets for you, and everything seemed hopeless. But I could never give up, and now I've found you.'

'Skates…' breathed Crutchy, voicing his incredulity on behalf of everyone else present. 'Skates is _Patrick_?'

'Oh, when I found your note,' said the woman breathlessly, ignoring Skates' horrified face and gripping her by the arms. 'I fell apart. But then I saw your brother's missing clothes, and…I knew then that I could only look for you as Patrick. But thank Heaven, you don't have to pretend anymore, dear.'

'Ma, _no_ -'

Skates's mother took hold of her cap and, before anyone could stop her, swept it off her daughter's head. Gasps and muttered profanities from the newsies, the ones who had been kept in the dark about the girls' identities, rose into the winter sky as Skates's long honey-colored hair fell down her back in a plait.

'What the hell is this…' growled Oscar from behind the front desk. Skates looked to her right with fearful eyes.

'This newsie's a goil!' exclaimed Morris, as if clarification was needed. Overcome with disgust, his brother turned to Ace, still close by, and threw out an arm. Before she could react, he'd knocked the hat off her head too. The Delanceys quickly managed to infer what was going on.

'It's all of 'em,' yelled Oscar. 'The new guys, they're _all_ goils!'

Blink, Race and Mush instinctively tried to shield Darlin', Streets and Madison from outraged glares, but it was futile. Ace looked at Jack feverishly, before shouting the first, most appropriate course of action that came to mind:

'Scram!'

Adrenaline fired into Skates as she ducked out of her mother's grip and sprinted close after her leader down the ramp. Ace put up her elbows and pushed through the crowd of stunned newsboys as quickly as possible. She looked anxiously over her shoulder to see the other girls doing the same - Rich actually swung to the gates on one of the hanging ropes.

'Stop 'em!' yelled Wiesel. 'Stop those girls!'

'Come back!' cried Skates's mother, distraught. 'Officer, that's my daughter! Make her come back!'

Ace and Skates saw that she'd got the attention of the, not one, but _four_, cops across the street.

'Split up, go!' commanded Ace. In pairs, the eight of them took off in different directions. The Manhattan newsies ran out into the street just as they sped away.

'This ain't happenin'…' said Blink, visibly distressed. Jack couldn't find anything useful to say.

'Boys!'

Their heads turned as Denton hurried over from around the corner, notebook and pencil to hand.

'What's all this commotion?'

'It's just like ya said, Denton,' grimaced Boots. 'The goils've been found out, an' now Weasel's got the bulls after 'em.'

'Step aside please,' ordered a fifth officer who had appeared almost out of nowhere. 'We need to clear a space for the wagon when it arrives.'

'The wagon?' repeated Jack, alarmed.

'Officer, this is all a misunderstanding,' said Denton quickly. 'If you want to avoid chaos I suggest you call off any pursuit.'

'Oh do you now?' he said, putting out an arm as a barrier. 'Sir, I'll ask you again to stand aside. If it's a misunderstanding, then that can be dealt with later, but for now, we have a job to do.'

Denton clenched his jaw at this failed negotiation attempt.

Frames and Darlin' didn't get very far. As soon as their chasing cop sounded his shrill whistle and called for them to be stopped, two members of the public - a businessman and a street sweeper - obeyed the instruction and nabbed them by the shoulders.

'Alright, alright, we give!' shouted Frames hastily, looking at Darlin', equally terrified. 'If we try to resist it'll only be worse.'

While they were marched back to the gates of _The World_, Madison and Vi tore down Church Street, no longer caring that their caps had long since flown off their heads.

'Which way?' panted Vi as they approached a fork in the grid.

'Don't kn - '

Madison was cut off when her heel slipped on a large patch of black ice in the road that hadn't been salted away. Vi rushed to help her up, but that only resulted in her own fall, giving the police enough time to catch up and secure their arms in a vice-like grip.

In just two minutes, a sizeable crowd of onlookers had gathered outside the gates, shocked and transfixed by this early morning scandal. Rich and Streets knew they had to get away from the main roads immediately, and so whirled into the first alleyway they saw. As soon as they began racing down it, however, they knew that luck was unquestionably not on their side that day, because it led to a dead-end.

'You two ain't goin' nowhere,' said one of the two cops who followed them into the alley. Streets and Rich put up their hands, furious and afraid in equal parts.

'Where are we goin'?' yelled Skates. She and Ace held each other loosely by the arm to make sure they didn't get separated.

'Anywhere outta sight - there!' She tugged Skates behind a stationary wagon and jumped through the open door of a tenement building. Wasting no time to look back at their pursuers, Ace and Skates pounded up flight after flight of stairs.

'Sleeper!' called out Ace as she scissor-kicked up and over an ambiguously unconscious down-and-out sprawled across a step. Skates did the same.

'Keep going…' panted Ace, her legs burning. 'Keep…climbin'.'

At last they reached the final set of stairs, the ones that led to the roof. Ace threw herself into the door, which to her couldn't open fast enough. Bitter December air struck their faces the second they ran onto the exposed rooftop. It was clear they had nowhere else to go, but Skates still ran right to the edge of the building, perhaps kidding herself that she might leap over to the next one with enough momentum.

The gap wasn't large enough. Skates didn't realize this until the very last millisecond, when her feet skidded against the ledge that looked out onto the streets below. A scream rang up from the road as Skates wobbled, swayed, and slipped off the roof.

'_Nyah!_' gasped Ace, who all but threw herself to the edge, catching her best friend by the arm. 'Oh…'

She felt her balance and stability leave her as soon as she looked down: they were four storeys off the ground, and there was Skates, hanging onto Ace's arm with both hands.

'Hold on hun,' winced Ace. She pushed hard against the edge just to stop herself from going over too. Skates stared up at her in blank fear, legs kicking at nothing.

'Don't let go, oh God…'

'I won't, I won't,' said Ace, praying that she could hold to that. She tried pulling Skates up, but only managed an inch before her muscles threatened to give way. Her arm felt like it was being put through a printing press.

'Skates,' she gasped through the increasing pain. 'We're gonna get through this.'

'Okay,' said Skates, close to tears.

'I mean it, we will, all of us.'

'Yeah…Ace, behind you!'

Two hands yanked the girl's shoulders, ripping her hand out of Skates's grasp. Ace's voice spiked as she screeched:

'Skates NO!'

There was no time to intervene, even from the perspective of the pedestrians who watched, aghast, as the newsgirl fell from the building, arms paralysed by the sudden, unfamiliar sensation of weightlessness.

A grocer's awning broke her fall. Skates crashed onto its tough material and, stunned, tumbled down to the sidewalk. Her back hit the ground first, then her legs, and finally her head. Capless, it took enough force to make the world around her turn the color and consistency of ink. Skates made a feeble attempt to raise her head off the ground, but quickly she was pulled unwillingly into a non-space, and let it fall back onto the snow-covered cement, eyes closed.

One minute later, Ace was hustled around the corner, back in the direction of _The World_. She saw two other cops lean over Skates, and felt something inside her snap.

'Damn you!' she shouted, trying to slow her cop down by putting her feet flat against the ground. 'Damn all a' youse! What have you done?!'

The back of her throat burned as much as her eyes. Questions blurred her vision: how badly was Skates hurt? Was she going to be okay? What was going to happen to the girls? Where were they taking her? Where was her hat?

'Ace!'

She blinked away salt and made the streets ahead sharpen. When she caught sight of Jack, struggling to be seen behind a human chain of bulls, a piece of her heart felt a happiness at odds with all that had happened in the last few minutes.

'Jack,' she called back. She saw a wagon nearby, saw the bars on its windows, saw Rich and Madison being walked into it. Ace knew this nightmare too well, but put her feelings about it in a box and let herself just look into Jack's eyes.

'Did they hurt ya? Are you alright?'

'I'm fine,' she said, straining her voice. 'But - but -'

'Skates?' said Crutchy in a small voice. He and the rest of the boys watched in horror as two cops dragged the newsie by forward her arms, scuffing the toes of her shoes, as her head hung limply over the frosted road.

'What the hell happened?' shouted Race, creased with worry.

'She jumped off a roof,' said one of the officers. Ace glared back at him with manic anger in her eyes.

'No, she didn't jump, _you let her fall_, you scum!'

'That's enough!' barked the cop behind her as he snapped handcuffs around her wrists. 'In the wagon - get!'

'Don't touch me,' hissed Ace, viciously shrugging him off. Jack looked ready to spit venom.

'Why I oughta -'

But before he could release the punch he had ready in his fist, Ace took him by surprise:

'Don't be an idiot, Jack!' she shouted. 'They could get you for assault...please.'

The despondent way she said 'please' made Jack drop his arm instantly. He didn't break their shared gaze until she'd disappeared into the wagon.

As the door was closed up and bolted, Jack and the newsies rushed to the wagon's side.

'Ace,' said Jack, clutching its bars as she looked down at him from behind the bars. 'Ace, we'll get you out, just wait.'

'Yeah,' she said with a sad smile. 'Yeah, we'll make it out.'

'In no time.'

'In no time.'

'I promise.'

'I believe ya.'

'I love ya.'

'I lov - '

The horsewhip cracked; the wheels turned; the wagon vanished around a corner. Jack and the boys stood in the middle of the road, too mired in shock to do anything but let icy winds weave around them.

**A/N: Sorry about the downer... :( If you'd like to figuratively cry about it (or tell me how I could have done it better), then please review. Until Monday, fellow newsies...**


	8. I Am Undone

**Chapter Eight**

**I Am Undone**

**A/N: Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger (except I'm not - they're really fun to write, mwahahaha), but thank you to Nicely Nicely's Little Sister, arosequartz, Stardust, and Ealasaid Una for your reviews in the interim! Also, sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, BUT as you'll quickly see, it's the longest one I've ever written. For both stories :O**

As soon as Skates woke up, she wished she hadn't.

'Awww…' She pushed herself off the freezing, damp, musty ground. It took three blinks for her surroundings to clarify.

'Oh, you guys, thank God.'

'Skates,' breathed the girls in relief. Ace, to her right, gently pulled her into a hug without causing her head further pain.

'I'm so sorry hun,' she said, eyes squeezed shut. 'They pulled me back so fast, I couldn't keep hold.'

'Wha? Oh, right…' Until then, Skates didn't have any memory of the previous day's events. She took in the unadorned walls with peeling paint, the small barred window out of reach, and the others' drained faces.

'We're in jail, ain't we?'

'Yeah,' said Ace, sitting against the wall with her elbows on her knees. 'For a whole night and mornin' now. I was startin' to dread you'd never wake up.'

'I'm so thirsty,' croaked Madison, on the other side of the cell, about half the size of the lodging house washroom.

'What I wouldn't give for a bit a' bread right now,' said Streets, folding herself up to keep the hunger pangs at bay.

'When d'ya think they'll bring us in for trial?' asked Vi, eyes fixed on the bars of the door.

'Any hour now,' said Frames. She removed her glasses to massage the bridge of her nose. 'They can't keep us in here much longer without a sentence.'

'I don't think I want 'em to come,' muttered Darlin', shivering. 'I just…Ace?'

She looked across with an unreadable expression. Darlin's blue eyes were painted with quiet fear.

'What's gonna happen to us?'

Ace vacantly rubbed her wrists along the handcuff marks. From down the hall she heard distant voices of other inmates, of thieves, prostitutes, and other societal street rats. Her eyes rested on the cell door as she was forced to admit the following words:

'I don't know, Darlin'. I honestly do not know.'

* * *

'Hey Jack, look!'

The sleep-deprived leader broke out of his cigarette smoke-hazed trance and followed Tumbler's pointed arm.

'Spot?' he said, half-expecting the approaching figures to be a hallucination. 'Dave?'

'Heya Jack,' said Spot gravely. David pulled his coat lapels closer to insulate himself from a cutting breeze.

'I was just running over when I saw Spot coming the other way.'

'Well we're glad you're here,' said Racetrack, stepping away from the bare tree he was leaning against. 'Been here a good hour an' we ain't got any idea what the hell's happenin' in there.'

He threw his hand to the face of the courthouse. A sizeable gathering of reporters and spectators waited outside the doors. Several had dry plate cameras at the ready.

'I just can't believe this,' said David, giving Jack a sad pat on the shoulder. He turned to Boots. 'I almost thought you were kidding when you came racing round to the apartment last night.'

'If only,' sighed Boots, scuffing snow off the edge of the sidewalk. He watched Snoddy, Specs and Bumlets wandering the perimeters of the streets, halfheartedly calling out headlines to displace the anxious wait:

'Price a' eggs expected to increase by 3% next year.'

'Man drowns in boating accident.'

'Winter drought foreseen until mid-January.'

Mush and Blink leant back to back on a bench, wanting to fall asleep but forcing themselves to stay alert.

'I can't take much more a' this,' said Blink, hugging his arms.

'Me neither kid,' said Mush. 'But we gotta try. They can't keep us in the lurch forever.'

'Well it's startin' to feel like forever.'

'Denton!' shouted David suddenly, waving. 'Denton, over here, we're over here!'

'Boys,' panted the reporter, jogging their way. 'Are you alright?'

'What do you think?' snapped Skittery, before sighing. 'Sorry.'

'Well, I've just heard the trial's due to start in under ten minutes.'

Half the newsies' eyes were on Denton, and the other half on the courthouse. He reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a rectangular card.

'Now, I can get in on my press pass, but they'll never let me bring you all in. Nominate two people and you can observe…Jack?'

'Yeah,' he responded without hesitation. He put out his cigarette in the snow and turned to assess which newsie to take with him.

He quickly realized, glancing at Blink, Mush, Crutchy and Racetrack's stricken faces, that this was an impossible decision. He felt a headache come on like a blaring siren.

'Jack, I need an answer,' said Denton firmly.

'Alright, alright,' he said, striking the air with a flat palm. For one second he shut down all thoughts and said the first name that wrote itself in the remaining blank space: 'Spot.'

The Brooklyn leader looked taken aback, but assented. The other newsies were crestfallen, but said nothing. David took up a spot against some railings with the others and resigned himself to a long wait.

'Alright then,' said Denton. 'Let's go. We'll see you back here soon.'

'Good luck,' said the newsies as the three of them headed to the courthouse, although the sentiment wasn't so much for them as it was for the girls inside.

* * *

'All rise, all rise,' ordered the bailiff inside the courtroom. 'Court is now in session, Judge F.D Rubenstein presiding.'

As Jack and Spot stood, they both felt a strange reversal of memory: just six months ago, they had been the ones standing trial, and now here they were, safely ensconced in the public seating area. Denton was already taking notes.

They sat down again as the judge, a slim man approaching middle age, with a gaunt face and watchful eyes, hit his gavel against the desk.

'Hey Jack,' whispered Spot, nodding at the rows ahead. 'Who are all dese people?'

'I don't know,' muttered Jack, frowning. But when he caught sight of Skates's mother in a row on the right, he realized he did. 'Wait…it's their families.'

Denton overheard this and paid closer attention to the strangers: there were eight 'sets', as it were, altogether. Jack searched the backs of their heads and side profiles for traits that might tell him whose parents were whose, but was quickly distracted by a door creaking open at the back of the courtroom. The bailiff recited, sharply and concisely:

'Case of Genevieve Heximer, Leonie Starczewski, Sofia Mascio, Pearl Rabinovich, Ivy Gelsinger, Alda Arnstein, Fay Bletchley, and Charity Erving, for unlawful vagrancy and concealment of identity.'

To Jack, this stream of names didn't match the Ace, Skates, Streets, Rich, Vi, Madison, Darlin' and Frames he knew, as they lined up solemnly before the judge's desk. Snyder's condescending mention of 'Francis Sullivan' sounded inside his head, and Jack felt quietly furious on the girls' behalf.

Gasps and muttered reprimands echoed around the room as the families saw their daughters, handcuffed and ragged, in newsboy clothes. Judge Rubenstein remained impassive.

'Are any of you represented by legal counsel?'

The girls looked at one another before silently electing Ace to answer for them:

'No, your honor.'

'In which case,' he said, glancing down at some sheets of paper. 'We shall proceed with a brief set of questions as to your charges. Am I to presume you are willing to speak for yourself and these others?'

Ace stared up at him, as composed as she could be under the circumstances.

'Yes, your honor.'

'Very good, and which are you?'

'Heximer, your honor. Genevieve Heximer.'

'Miss Heximer,' said the judge, leaning over the desk. 'Do you know these other girls?'

'Yes, your honor.'

'Are they your friends?'

'Yes, your honor.'

'Did you conspire to run away from home together?'

Ace paused without breaking eye contact.

'…No, your honor. There was no conspiracy involved. We each left home of our own accord and became friends afterwards.'

'I see. And why did you run away?'

'Is that a question for me, or for all of us?' asked Ace, tiredness on her shoulders like heavy milk pails. 'Because, your honor, I can only give you my answer.'

'Then give me your own answer.'

Ace glanced at the polished floor for the first time. She'd already seen her parents in the public seats, which made speaking about this subject aloud all the more difficult.

'Well, your honor,' she said eventually. 'I was deeply unhappy at home. It…was no longer an environment I could tolerate.'

'You were unhappy?' repeated Rubenstein, his expression as inscrutable as hers. 'In what sense?'

'My parents, your honor,' she said, willing her throat not to dry up as she mentioned the people she wanted more than anything not to acknowledge. 'We reached an impasse in our views on whether or not I should…be married, your honor.'

'Does this apply to any of you?' asked Rubenstein, casting his eyes over the girls. They nodded. For the first time, his face became animated as his eyebrows shot up. '_All_ of you?'

'Yes, your honor,' said Ace. From the back of the courtroom, their families exchanged shocked, hurt and confused whispers that grew loud enough for Rubenstein to bang his gavel.

'Silence in court!'

There was silence. The judge drummed his skinny fingers on the tabletop, processing his thoughts.

'My next question,' he said evenly. 'Is why have you disguised yourselves as boys?'

'We knew it wouldn't be safe for us to remain dressed as women, your honor,' replied Ace. 'And we also needed a means of earnin' a living, as well…as well as an assurance that we wouldn't be found by our families.'

'Are you, and were you, aware that dressing in male clothing when you are a woman is prohibited by law in the state of New York?'

'…Yes, your honor.'

'So you admit to doing wrong in the eyes of the law?'

Ace clenched her teeth, before taking a breath.

'I admit, your honor, that we broke the law. But I refuse to accept that what we did was wrong.'

More angry whispers sounded from the back of the courtroom. Darlin' and Skates found themselves crying quiet tears without free hands to brush them away.

'Before I declare your sentence,' said Rubenstein. 'Is there anything further you would like to add?'

'Yes, your honor,' said Ace, verve edging into her voice. 'There is. I understand that our actions, running away from home and living under male identities, appear scandalous to the public and yourself.'

The judge stayed neutral, neither confirming not denying the truth of her statement.

'However,' she continued. 'What _you_ need to understand is that we love our families. I speak for all of us when I say that hurting them has never been a desire for us. But in this past year, it became a last resort.

'Your honor, we implore you to understand that none of us want marriage, at least not yet. We felt increasingly trapped by the expectations of our parents and our communities, by futures none of us wish to have. No one listened to us, so we fled to places where we wouldn't have to explain ourselves any longer.

'An' your honor, I suppose what I'm saying is that, if my friends and I are prosecuted simply for not wanting what tradition dictates we should want, for wantin' to live differently and hope for better opportunities, then I ask you, what is the point of living in America, land of the free?'

Ace's speech left the courtroom soundless, save for her anxious breaths and Denton's pencil scribbling. Rubenstein remained thoughtfully silent for what felt like a long time, letting his eyes wander over the rest of the room. The girls waited in burning anxiety, until at long last he spoke up:

'Is there a representative of each of these young women's families present in the courtroom? Raise your hands if this is the case.'

Over a dozen hands, some gloved, some bare and thin, were lifted, accompanied by a handful of 'yes, your honor' mutterings. He nodded, satisfied.

'Good. If there are no objections, then I hereby pass over custody of these eight defendants to their respective families, effective immediately -'

'No…' whispered Ace, feeling sick.

'Your honor, I object.'

Everyone, including the girls, turned to face Denton, standing. He shuffled past Jack and Spot, who Ace noticed for the first time since the trial began. She and Jack shared a deep look from opposite ends of the courtroom, yearning to run into each other's arms.

'Who are you?' asked Rubenstein. Denton strode right up to the bailiff's desk. He flashed his press pass.

'Bryan Denton, reporter for the New York Sun.'

'And what is your objection, sir?'

'Your honor, with all due respect, to send these young women back to their families so hastily will present…complications. As Miss Heximer has explained herself very clearly, they have all chosen of their own free will _not_ to live with them because of the unhappiness it brought.'

'Who does this man think he is?' muttered a woman in a high-buttoned navy dress and matching hat, pearls embedded in her earlobes. 'Telling us how _our_ daughters should be living.'

The man next to her, who Jack assumed was her husband, shook his head gruffly.

'Be that as it may, Mr. Denton,' said Rubenstein. 'I cannot let these girls walk free without guardians, nor can I send them to The House of Refuge when they have family members willing to take them back into their care. They are too young in the eyes of the law for the outcome to be otherwise.'

'Are they?' said Denton sharply. Rubenstein paused in his second attempt to bring down the gavel. 'The age at which a citizen is considered to be an adult, responsible for their own choices and affairs…and lifestyles…is eighteen, is that correct?'

'That is correct, sir.'

'Well,' said Denton, looking anxiously at the girls' faces. 'How many of the defendants are aged eighteen?'

Jack and Spot gripped their seats with restless hands as the judge went through eight birth certificates, obtained in the early hours of the morning. After what seemed like an age, he stacked them back into order, laid them to one side, and folded his hands.

'Three of them are eighteen, Mr. Denton. Am I to presume you are suggesting those defendants who are of age be released without charge?'

'…I am, your honor,' replied Denton. Skates looked from Ace to the judge, before finding her voice as a matter of urgency:

'Your honor.'

'Yes, Miss…?'

'Starczewski, sir.' She ignored the dry tear tracks on her face and willed new ones not to pour down. 'I know which three of us are eighteen already, but Ace - uh, Genevieve - turns eighteen next week. I know she ain't technically at the age of adulthood yet -'

'No, she is not,' interrupted the judge. 'And as such, this revised sentence would not apply to her.'

'Wait, your honor,' said Denton, intuiting that Jack would yell bloody murder if he didn't at least try to negotiate. 'You're a reasonable man, a man whose profession rests on good judgment and common sense.'

Rubenstein waited for him to get to the point.

'What would be achieved by sending Miss Heximer back to her family for only a week, after which time she would most likely leave of her own accord again anyway?' said Denton, sweat breaking out on his brow. 'With the administrative tasks to account for as well, it is not in this court's interest to exclude Miss Heximer from the revised sentence if she is indeed on the verge of turning eighteen.'

'…Are you finished with your objections?'

'Yes, your honor,' breathed Denton.

'In which case, I will now, finally, declare that the defendants Arnstein, Bletchley, Heximer and Rabinovich be released without charge, under no formal guardianship. The others will be returned to the custody of their families. Court is adjourned.'

As soon as the gavel hit the desk, a hurricane of reactions broke loose in the courtroom. Four families leapt to their feet in joy, while the other four stood and voiced their outrage to Judge Rubenstein, who promptly ignored them and disappeared out of the back door. Denton weaved his way back to Jack and Spot, who were caught between the same polar emotions.

'Come on, let's get outside before things get out of hand.'

'But the goils -'

'Will be brought out shortly,' said Denton, ushering Jack towards the doors reassuringly.

The reporters outside almost wasted their flash bulbs on the three of them as they exited into the raw cold.

'Hey fellas!' Spot called to the rest of the newsies. 'Over here!'

David, Mush, Blink, Crutchy and Racetrack were the speediest, hurrying over to Jack, Spot and Denton. They, followed closely by the others, looked ready to explode with suspense.

'What happened?'

'Are they free?'

'What'd the judge say?'

'Tell us Jack!'

'Are they alright?'

'_Pipe down_!' shouted Spot. A feverish silence ensued. He let his shoulders relax. 'Now, before they bring 'em out -'

'Look!' exclaimed Dutchy. Everyone stared at the courthouse doors, now propped open, as four different cameras fired up at once.

Ace put both hands on either side of her face, concentrating solely on her feet in the snow. This was the last thing she needed.

Still staring at the ground, she rubbed her sore wrists and tried to move away from the reporters. To any and all questions she answered with a blunt, 'no comment.'

At last they moved onto new subjects behind her, and she looked up. There, a mere thirty feet away, were the boys - David, Racetrack, Blink, Mush, Crutchy, Boots, Skittery…and there was Jack.

She felt like a tightrope walker without a safety harness, putting one foot slowly in front of the other, never letting her eyes leave the horizon.

'Genevieve.'

Her real name, in a voice she'd almost forgotten, broke her path. With a sigh that hauled itself up from the depths of her heart, Ace looked over her shoulder, at her parents.

'Were you really about to leave us,' said her mother, strands of auburn hair caught in the wind. 'Without even letting us look at you after so long?'

They stood directly opposite one another. Jack now fully understood where Ace's hard stare came from. Mrs. Heximer held her plain shawl to her frame while her husband removed his hat.

'I never thought our own child could hurt us so badly,' she said, despondency etched into her voice. 'Who are you anymore? Where's the Genevieve we love so dearly?'

'Still here,' said Ace, wounded in spite of everything. 'But she had make some difficult decisions. And I am tired…I am _tired_, of havin' the same conversation with you and gettin' the same wall for an answer.'

'Genevieve,' said her father, neither sternly nor gently. 'The court verdict means that no one can force you to come home. But we're hoping for just that - please come back. After all, we love you.'

Ace felt her chest rise and fall like a bird exhausted from flying. In hushed, measured tones, she replied:

'No. You don't.'

'Genevieve…' winced her mother.

'You don't love me,' said Ace, shaking her head with a pain in her throat. 'You just love the idea of me. If I go back, we'll all be disappointed.'

With that, she picked up where she left off, back to the newsies.

'One more step,' said her mother coldly. 'And you'll never be welcome in our house again.'

Ace stopped again, but didn't turn back. She gazed at Jack and saw everything life had to offer. She uttered one expressionless word in response:

'Good.'

Jack ran forward when she did, and they crashed into each other like intersecting waves.

'Ace, Ace, Ace,' he repeated into her hair. 'I ain't never lettin' you go, never, ya hear? Oh God…'

Kissing her in public, with the press close by, was not even an issue. Ace felt a hand grasp her shoulder, and when she and Jack broke away, she all but jumped into David's arms.

'You're free,' he laughed, hugging his friend tightly. As she moved into side-hugs from Blink and Crutchy, Ace half-smiled sadly. David's face fell.

'Yeah,' she said. '..._I _am.'

'What?' said Blink, before a delicate hand patted his shoulder. When he saw Darlin' right in front of him, he came alive.

'Oh my god,' he gasped, arms reflexively embracing her. The smell of her perfume confirmed that this was in fact a real moment, making him tear up as much as her.

'Are you alright?' he said, holding her face in his bare, freezing hands.

'Yeah - no - yeah,' she decided, all over the place. Blink held her close again.

'Madison!' called Mush, heart racing when he saw her, free from cuffs, emerging from the crowd. She closed the gap between them as fast as possible, and he swept her off the frosted ground.

'Ace.'

'Oh, Rich,' said Ace, throwing herself on her friend. Only they could feel the exact storm of relief and sorrow that swirled in the air.

'I wanted to get outta there faster,' said Rich, blinking back tears at the sky. 'But my parents…urgh, it was horrible. I'm a disgrace to them.'

'Join the club,' said Ace, bitter as coffee grounds.

'Wait, wait,' said Race, getting more agitated. 'Whaddya mean _you're_ free? Ace?'

The Riverside leader detached herself from her hug with Rich, looked into Race's eyes, and had no idea what she could possible say.

'They didn't…' she said, frustrated by the sudden dryness of her lips. 'Not all of us.'

The newsie blanched. In fact, her pronouncement made all the boys hush, putting two and two together. Racetrack glimpsed something over Rich's shoulder and took three uneasy steps forward.

'Streets?'

Bulbs kept flashing. Pencils kept scribbling. Questions kept intruding on the little space Streets had left to breathe as she was escorted from the courthouse, hair down and untidy, by two women. A third followed just behind. Streets's face was the picture of despair, and her face contorted in pain as the older woman on her left pinched her ear hard because she wasn't walking fast enough.

'Where's she goin'?' asked Race, eyes widening in fear. 'Ace, who are they, where are they takin' her?'

'That's her mother,' said Ace, walking slowly to his side. 'And two of her sisters. They're takin' her home.'

'But why?'

''Cause she's only fifteen,' said Ace in a cracked voice. 'An' accordin' to the judge, anyone under eighteen is incapable of makin' decisions for themselves like a human being.'

'What, I…what?' said Race, turning from her to Streets and back.

'They only let ya go if you're eighteen?' said Skittery, stupefied.

'I barely made it out,' said Ace, feeling an enormous wad of guilt lodge itself in her chest. 'I ain't even eighteen until next week, an' if Skates hadn't said anything…'

As soon as she said her name, Skates left the courthouse. Ace stared at a reality she didn't want to accept: her best friend, being walked by her mother and father in their direction, knowing they weren't going to stop for the newsies.

If anything, when the three of them reached Ace, Mrs. Starczewski (or, to the boys, Patrick's mother) turned inwards, shielding her daughter from the street rats with her body.

'Skates, you're the greatest friend anyone could ask for,' said Ace quickly. Skates just managed to crane her neck back as she was hurried away. All she had time for was a scared smile and nod to Ace, and a fleeting look at Crutchy, who held onto Jack's coat collar because, even with his crutch, his legs felt ready to buckle.

'They can't…' he mumbled, eyes lost and confused. 'Skates.'

Jack put a consoling arm around his good friend's shoulder, because he knew words wouldn't do the job.

'No,' said Dutchy, aghast. 'Not Frames too.'

Ace, Darlin', Madison and Rich watched as the blonde, bespectacled newsgirl evaded the crowds. She walked without being steered, although her father's hand did rest on her shoulder. His smile was stiff, but sincere.

Her mother, a darker blonde in simple, modest dress, accidentally made eye contact with the newsies, but instead of throwing them a look of scorn, her blue eyes were clouded with something approximating pity.

Vi was the last one out. Her parents, well dressed and keen to avoid publicity, moved briskly in the newsies' direction. Before they could stop her, she ran ahead and threw her arms around as many of her friends as possible: Madison, Darlin', Ace, Race, Swifty, Crutchy, Skittery.

'Don't forget me,' she said, pained.

'Never,' said Madison quickly, as Vi's parents caught up and led her away. Vi's hand was pulled prematurely from Skittery's, but she heard Madison's last words to her:

'We'll wait for you.'

**A/N: Oh my word…emotions everywhere. Also, this chapter is 4000 words long, I'm not even sure how I'm still conscious 0_0 I hope you'll all leave some reviews for me, it would make my day ^_^**


	9. Nothing Can Break Us

**Chapter Nine**

**Nothing Can Break Us**

**A/N: I was so exhausted after writing last night's chapter, but then I watched Newsies again today and now I'm ready to go! (Also, coffee. ALL THE COFFEE). Many gracious thanks to LovesBrooklyn, Nicely Nicely's Little Sister, arosequartz, Ealasaid Una, and Guest (who may or may not be Stardust)**

**Warning: This chapter contains scenes of emotional and physical abuse. Read with caution.**

'So what now?' asked Spot in a low voice. Jack looked at Ace. Ace looked at Jack. A cinder block of exhaustion crashed onto her head.

'I guess,' she said, not even attempting to make sense of that day's events. 'We go back to Duane Street.'

'Yeah,' said Jack, although he didn't want to rush anyone. The reporters and spectators began drifting away from the courthouse, the drama now over. Denton rejoined the newsies, a reluctant look on his face.

'I'm so sorry,' he said, half-reaching to comfort Ace before withdrawing his hand. He opened his mouth as if to say her name, but didn't know exactly what to call her now.

'What are ya talkin' about?' said Darlin', wiping away fresh tears. 'You saved us in there.'

'Can't thank you enough,' nodded Rich.

'Well I am relieved,' he admitted. 'But I only wish I could have saved all of you.'

The girls didn't respond to that. Mush cradled Madison in his arms from behind, and she absent-mindedly stroked his hands. Then she paused, frowning.

'Does anyone else hear that?'

All ears stood to attention. Sure enough, filtered out from the background noise of horse hooves, distant conversations, rustling papers and footsteps, they could hear a faint scream.

'What the -'

'Where's it comin' from?' asked David, scanning the empty white square.

Racetrack stared hard at the corner around which Streets had been taken. His intuition was correct only around fifty percent of the time, but as a gambling man, he followed it nonetheless.

'Race?' the newsies called as he broke into a sprint.

* * *

Streets knew she was in hot water the second court was adjourned. Against her will she had to exchange friends for a family she'd never wanted to encounter again.

'I'm sorry, Ma,' she murmured as a guard unlocked her handcuffs.

'Can we please get out of here?' said Maria, older than Streets by two years, who bit her nails in any uncomfortable situation. Mrs. Mascio, tall and rigid, looked down on her youngest child with crossed arms and kept her lip buttoned. She grasped a string of rosaries attached to the belt of her skirt.

Maria was the last one out of the courthouse, throwing looks of disdain at the cameras that wouldn't stop going off around her family.

'Come on now,' snapped their mother, avoiding eye contact with anyone. 'Away from these bleedin' journalist types.'

'Vultures,' hissed Saoirse, the eldest, who had her arm hooked tightly through Streets's. 'The whole lot of 'em.'

'I said _move_.' Streets winced as a familiar pinch pierced the cartilage of her ear. She walked faster. They turned a corner, and instantly the volume of the reporters' commotion was cut in half.

Streets felt relief flood her ear when her mother's sharp nails relinquished it, but this was interrupted almost immediately by a sharp slap across the left side of her face.

'Just what 'ave ya got to say fer yourself, huh?'

Maria held her sister up when she threatened to stumble into the empty side road.

'We thought you'd been sold into a brothel,' she whispered, putting her fingers to her mouth.

'She might as well 'ave,' said Saoirse, glaring at her sister as though she were a puddle of slush. 'Livin' like a street rat, wit' those good-for-nothin' newsboys. Bet all yer morals went out the window as soon as one of 'em made eyes at ya.'

'That's a lie,' Streets shot back, earning her a slap on the other cheek.

'You've no right to talk back, Sofia,' said her mother, pointing a stern finger at her. 'Not after all the shame ya brought on our family. What d'you think the neighbors'll have to say about us now? An' God help us wit' the church…they'll never let us attend service again, much less you.'

Streets couldn't stand looking at her mother when she was this angry. She'd trained herself to take solace in a blank patch of wall or square of pavement until her tirades were over. She even stayed silent when Saoirse tugged harshly at the collar of her shirt.

'Ya little thief, stealin' Pa's shirts and pants like they was your own. D'ya hear me, Sofe? They ain't yours.'

Streets's face broke its stoic expression when her sister yanked off her coat and threw it down onto the snow. Her hands pulled insistently at the fabric of her father's old work shirt, but when Streets resisted, they pulled at her hair.

'Don't touch me!' hissed Saoirse. Their mother intervened, but not for Streets's benefit: without any care for the actual shirt itself, she ripped it off her daughter sharply and swiftly, first by the sleeves, and then the body.

Streets, now struggling against her sister and mother in just a thin white vest, surrendered to instinct and screamed in pain. Saoirse responded by slamming her into a brick wall by the arms, before letting her stagger forward again. Maria looked on, incapable of acting as usual.

'You're…you're hurtin' her.'

'Stay out of this,' responded her mother cuttingly. She grabbed her youngest by the ear again, with an even stronger pinch.

'Ow, ow stop, please!' cried Streets, crumpling. 'Ma, _please_.'

'Selfish, that's what you are,' she said, almost manic. 'Look at me when I'm talkin' to you!'

Streets gasped when nails raked across the left side of her face, and she fell to the ground in shock. She hadn't been scratched in a very, very long time, and the feeling felt horribly new all over again.

'Ma, please stop,' pleaded Maria, still inactive. Even Saoirse stood back, quietly alarmed at the level their mother's fury had reached.

'Just a selfish little child,' she said. She was sitting on Streets, hands around her neck. 'Doin' unholy things like this, ya don't even know how much you'll ruin our family, ya don't, ya don't…'

Mrs. Mascio cut herself off when a pair of hands pulled her away. Streets brought one knee up and spluttered for air. All she saw were buildings against the sky, but heard Racetrack's voice perfectly:

'Back. Off.'

Mrs. Mascio went into a kind of spasm from the touch of this low-life before her. Despite being half her size, Race stood his ground.

'You heard him,' came a second voice. Streets's mother glared at Ace and Rich, who joined him on either side.

'She's in our family,' said Mrs. Mascio at last, icily. 'This is our business.'

'Yeah, but we ain't in your family,' said Ace, standing at equal height to her. 'Don't think that we won't fight back when our friend's gettin' hurt.'

The tense woman looked from the three newsies, to her other daughters, to Streets on the ground.

'Unholy child,' she muttered, before spitting fiercely in her direction. 'Consider yerself disowned.'

She gathered some remaining composure and walked quickly down the street, not looking back.

'Saoirse -'

'Coming.' The raven-haired, thin-faced sister scowled down at Streets for a final time, before hurrying after her mother.

Maria was still standing there when the rest of the newsies appeared from behind the corner, every one of whom stopped dead in their tracks at the scene before them.

'Maria!' came the shrill command from the end of the street. The older girl opened her mouth with no words to come from it. Racetrack stared at her, almost disturbed by how closely she resembled Streets: same petite frame, same dark hair, same freckled skin. But her eyes were brown, and much larger. They wandered, hostile, over the others, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though she might stay to help.

'Yes Ma…' She turned, ran, and was gone.

Rich and Ace sighed at the same time. Racetrack knelt down beside Streets, waiting for her eyes to stop looking so empty. She kept them on the sky, but moved her hand into his.

Racetrack wasn't used to this kind of situation - he tried not to let on that he was improvising everything, just following instructions about what 'felt' right to do. Squeezing Streets's hand, he slowly pulled her into a sitting position. Her bare arms trembled, and she shut her eyes when he let their foreheads gently touch, hands held tight in the middle.

'Hey,' he whispered as she breathed hard. 'It's over, it's over now, you're alright…'

Race put a hand on her back and eased her off the ground. Rich fluidly removed her coat and swept it over Streets's shoulders, to return some warmth and dignity to her friend.

Streets mutely nodded thanks, which was a promising sign. But then as soon as Race began to let go of her, she swayed.

'Okay, I gotcha,' he said hastily, throwing 'help me' looks to Denton, Ace and Jack.

'She's probably in shock,' said Denton. 'The lodging house isn't far from here, is it?'

'About five or ten minutes,' said Jack.

'Then we really should get back,' said Ace. Racetrack put an arm under Streets's legs and, impressively for his height, picked her up off the ground. The others acquiesced and cleared the way so they could go first, trying not to stare.

Streets was aware of all of this as it happened, but she wasn't quite 'there'. A single fact took up her conscious energy: even in her worst moods, even for Streets' biggest misgivings, her mother had never spat on her before.

**A/N: Man, just when I thought I'd put all the deep emotions neatly back into my Writer's Cupboard - BAM - they come tumbling out again :| Let me know how you feel in a review, whether I haven't met you yet, or whether you've been reviewing every chapter!**


	10. You Win Some, You Lose Some

**Chapter Ten**

**You Win Some, You Lose Some**

**A/N: My thanks goes again to my loyal reviewers -LovesBrooklyn, arosequartz, Nicely Nicely's Little Sister, Stardust, as well as all of you anonymous readers :) Onwards, onwards we go…**

'Ow.'

'Sorry.'

'Ow.'

'Sorry.'

'Okay, _stop_!'

Darlin' spread her hands and took a step back from Streets.

'I did say it'd sting,' she mumbled, Kloppman's bottle of iodine in one hand and a ball of cotton in the other. Her friend winced and forced herself not to touch the scratches on her cheek.

They were all in the bunkroom, subdued. Posters and scraps of paper fluttered softly under their pins on the walls, from drafts that squeezed through gaps in the window panes. Anyone on a bottom bunk lay flat on the mattresses, while the others sat with their legs hanging off the top bunks.

Only Racetrack took to the floor, leaning against his bedpost, for Streets's sake. He rubbed his arms in the cold, having donated his shirt as well - when he wasn't looking, Streets buried her nose in the fabric and drank in the strangely comforting fusion of cigar smoke and cologne.

'Ace?'

'Yeah Crutchy?' she said, peering over her and Jack's bunk.

'When does Skates turn eighteen?'

She hated the answer, and that she was the one who had to break it to him:

'March.'

'…Oh. That's a long time away.'

'I know,' she said.

'Vi's not 'til April,' said Madison.

'And Frames is June,' said Darlin', biting her lip while standing under the doorframe. She drifted downstairs to return the iodine to Kloppman.

'God above,' groaned Skittery, lying on his bunk with hands behind his head. He stared at the ceiling as if it were about to collapse any minute. 'What's gonna happen to 'em?'

'I truly dread to think,' said Ace. From Tumbler's bunk, Rich lay her head on her elbows and sighed.

'Well, if their parents weren't already hurryin' to find 'em a husband, they'll be workin' at twice the speed now.'

'Recover their respectability,' said Madison.

'Pfft,' was all Streets had to contribute. Ace shook her head.

'It ain't fair,' said Jack, taking her hand. 'For them or youse. So what's say we break 'em out, one for all an' all for one?'

This idea wasn't met with the enthusiasm he'd expected. From the window, Spot sent a withering look his way.

'Yeah, dat's a real nice thought, Jacky-boy. Sure, ya bust 'em out easy enough, but what about afterwards?'

'He's right jack,' said David, perching on a corner of Crutchy's bunk just below. 'The cops know where to look now, and we'd all just get charged with harboring fugitives.'

'Alright, so it's not one a' my better ideas,' said Jack sourly. 'But I feel like we gotta do somethin'…back me up here, Ace.'

She let go of his hand and folded both of them over the edge of the bunk. The stare she gave him almost belonged to someone else, someone lost and new to the world.

'I don't know, Jack. I don't know if there's anythin' we can do at all.'

'But…' he searched for words and, failing that, gestured to the ground. 'I mean look at Crutchy, for pete's sake. I ain't never seen him so blue in my life.'

'Hey, lay off,' said Racetrack, but not unkindly. 'Even the happiest guy in the world's allowed to feel sad when his goil gets taken away from 'im.'

Crutchy didn't say anything, but gave a sad half-smile to his friend across the room. Jack took a breath. Skittery sniffed loudly enough for Rich to fix concerned eyes on him.

'Skitts, are you…alright?'

'Mhmmm,' he sighed through his nose, which could be deciphered either as a 'no' or a 'yes'. The newsie sat up and rubbed his hands over his face, elbows resting on his knees. His large eyes shone in the fading daylight. 'It's just been an intense day, fer all of us.'

'Ya might as well tell 'em, Skitts,' said Specs, his head appearing from below. 'They'se gonna work it out sooner or later.'

'Work out what?' said David. Ace turned to the other side of the mattress and stared at Skittery.

'...Oh my word,' she said, her chest hollow. 'You've fallen for Vi, haven't ya?'

Everyone's heads looked his way, but Skittery didn't know who to look back at first. His head tilted downwards at Specs.

'I…How'd you know that?'

'I sleep in the bunk below ya, remember. I couldn't _not_ know.'

Some of the boys gasped and sniggered, in spite of everything. Skittery went a shade of pink not unlike his long johns.

'Whoa, we never went _that _far! Unclog yer minds…'

'Why didn't ya say nothin'?' asked Crutchy, somewhat revived.

'I don't know,' murmured Skittery, looking at his hands. 'There was never a right time, I guess. An' we weren't in a hurry or nothin'…'

When his voice cracked, Ace felt hot pain thread up from her throat into the corners of her face. She stepped down from the bunk.

'Ace?' said Jack. 'Where ya goin'?'

'I gotta splash some water on my face.'

She shut the washroom door behind her and gripped both sides of the nearest sink. Her eyes finally misted up, and the pain eased off, although not by much. She'd kept her feelings in their box all day, and all of yesterday, but now they splintered the wood, forcing the lock until it broke.

It was hard to breathe: Ace undid another button at the neck of her shirt. The door handle clicked.

'Hey.'

'Can't I have five minutes to wallow in self-pity?' she said, still gazing into the basin. The thin pain continued to roll up her throat like steam. Jack laid a hand on her shoulder until she eventually turned to face him.

'Doesn't sound like the goil I know,' said Jack. Ace tried to blink away the blurriness in her eyes, but it had the opposite effect, releasing the tears.

'I failed, Jack,' she said, shaking her head. 'I failed 'em. I told 'em, I _promised_ that we'd stay together, no matter what, and now look where we are.'

Jack had never seen her like this before. Even though it was the least appropriate time possible, Ace reminded him of Sarah on the afternoon of their break-up. He didn't know how to react then, and he didn't know how to react now.

'Come here,' he said, trying anyway. She walked into his open arms and buried her face in his shoulder. 'What're ya sayin', huh? Who says you've failed the goils?'

'I do,' came the muffled reply. Ace rested her chin on Jack's shoulder, breathing in his aftershave as a means of calming herself. 'I held onto Skates so tight before she fell from the roof yesterday. I can hear myself now, tellin' her I'd never let go. Now she's gonna be married off to a stranger, made to be miserable the rest of her life. An' there ain't a single thing I can do about it.'

'That don't mean it's your fault, Ace.'

Jack cradled her face with his hand and felt the dampness of her skin. They looked at each other just as they had on the day of their first kiss, back in October, in another world altogether.

'Maybe you're right,' she conceded. 'But it might well mean that I ain't leader material after all.'

Jack blinked at her. Ace's dark brown eyes were like church windows with the stained glass shattered out - he was looking into the heart and mind of the person who preceded Ace.

'Genevieve,' he murmured. She became very still, but without a trace of anger.

'I never want ya to think that again. Never, you hear? 'Cause let me tell ya, all throughout the strike, I was the leader, an' I had no idea in heaven or hell what I was doin'.'

'That's difficult to believe, but I'll take your word for it.'

'Well, believe it. I couldn't have done it alone, not without Dave an' Denton an' Spot, an' all the guys. There was even a point where they all wanted to soak me fer turnin' my back on 'em.'

At Ace's frown, Jack shook his head, his other hand on her shoulder.

'That's a story for another day. My point is that sometimes a leader feels like a fraud, like they don't deserve to be one. But if dere's one thing I learnt from the strike, it's that you only stop bein' a leader when ya let the moments a' doubt keep ya down. An' you, Ace Heximer, who knocked Spot Conlon to the floor even wit' a bloody nose, who spoke up for all yer friends in front a' the entire courthouse, are _not_ one to be kept down so easy.'

She covered his hand with hers against her face and realized the salty tears were drying up.

'I never did get to finish sayin' it, y'know.'

'Say what?'

'I love you, Jack Kelly.'

The kiss that followed was objectively the best thing to happen to either of them that entire day.

The first person to greet Ace when she and Jack neutrally exited the washroom was Spot, brandishing two tin mugs and one battered silver coffee pot.

'Yer landlord made coffee,' he said while pouring some for them, as if they hadn't quite grasped the fact.

'Thanks,' said Ace with a calm smile. Although Spot kept absolutely silent on the subject, there was something about the way he glanced at her that said, 'we all lose our heads sometimes, but don't sweat it too much.' She and Jack quietly clinked mugs before taking invigorating sips.

'Y'know,' said Darlin' over her own mug. 'Crutchy was makin' a real good point just now.'

'Oh yeah?' said Jack, hopeful that the boy might regain at least part of his trademark cheer. Crutchy sat up and looked their way, nodding reflectively.

'I was just thinkin' that we gotta have faith. I mean, this is a terrible day, an' not just for me,' he said, nodding sympathetically at Skittery. 'But dwellin' on that ain't gonna get us anywhere, so we might as well try makin' the best of it however we can.'

Ace nodded, filled with pride at the wisdom she saw flickering in Crutchy's eyes, wisdom that exceeded his age.

'I know where she lives,' she said. 'Skates.'

'…Ya do?'

'If we're smart about it,' said Ace cautiously, 'then I'm sure we'll be able to see her, as soon as ya like.'

'Honest?'

'Hundred percent.'

'Aw, there we go,' said Crutchy, a real smile coming back into his face. 'A piece a' good news already.'

'The more I think about it,' Ace whispered to Jack. 'The more I think Crutchy's a leader at heart.'

Jack nodded, as well as Spot, who happened to overhear.

'Wh-what about Vi?' said Skittery, his eyes shifting from gloomy to hopeful.

'I know where she is,' piped up Madison. 'My folks are acquainted wit' hers.'

'Darlin',' said Rich. 'Frames lives around Washington Heights, am I right?'

'Yep. We can visit her too.'

'Well,' concluded Ace, with only a faint imprint of pain left in her throat. 'Now we have a plan. Like Crutchy said, we got faith, if we want it.'

Jack smiled at her.

* * *

'Thanks for stickin' around, Spot.'

'Anytime, Jacky-boy, anytime.'

In the doorframe of the lodging house, the two leaders spit-shook before returning their hands to the warmth of their pockets.

'Sure you're alright to head back to Brooklyn?'

'Yeah, I'll just hop on a trolley wagon. They run right through the evenings.'

'See ya 'round.'

'Take care a' yerselves,' called Spot, waving as he retreated from the lodging house. Jack waved back, then turned to watch David descend the stairs with Ace.

'Will we see ya tomorrow?' she asked, arms folded.

'Should do,' he replied. 'School's off for the Christmas vacation now, even though we had our own celebrations last month.'

'Oh yeah,' said Jack. 'Um…uh, hanna…'

'Hannukah, yes,' said David. 'Gotta say, I'm lookin' forward to spendin' whole days with the newsies again.'

'Yeah,' said Ace. 'Although how tomorrow's gonna go exactly is anyone's guess.'

David nodded, offering a half-awkward pat on the arm for lack of suitable words.

'Tell Les we all say hi.'

'Sure will,' said David, stepping outside. 'Goodnight.'

'Night,' said Ace and Jack, before bolting the door shut. They wandered back to the staircase with an arm around each other.

'Night Kloppman,' called Jack.

'Sleep well, all a' youse,' came the reply.

In the darkness that night, group conversation seemingly gave way to silence and sleep. In fact, a third of the bunkroom's occupants stayed awake for some time, contained in their own private thoughts and whispers.

'Can't tell you how good it feels to be back wit' ya,' murmured Darlin' with half-open eyes. 'In a real bed.'

'I kept reachin' into the empty space on the mattress last night,' said Blink, content to stroke her hair for a lifetime. 'When you were suddenly there after the trial, well, I thought I was dreamin'.'

'You're the dreamy one,' she said, finding the open neck of his undershirt. Her palm slipped inside and rested on his beating heart, warm and alive.

'No, I think you are.'

Blink couldn't resist pulling her closer, until there was no space between them at all.

'Well, let's compromise an' say we both are.'

'Sounds good to me,' he grinned, kissing the top of her head before settling down to sleep.

'You okay?' Mush whispered into Madison's ear. They were spooning again, partly for the warmth, but mostly for the connection.

'I guess,' she sighed into the still blackness. 'Just stunned.'

'Worried?'

'That too,' she said, wishing the pillow could soak up her heartache. 'I can't stop thinkin' how lonely they must be. Especially Vi.'

Mush squeezed her arm, wishing, like everyone else, that something could be done right away to lift the sadness; he made do with comforting words:

'I know it ain't much, but Vi's a strong person. You all are. We'll get through this somehow.'

Madison brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it.

'Never been more glad to have ya here, hun.'

On the other side of the room, Streets rested the uninjured side of her face on Racetrack's chest. His hand softly brushed over her cheek, around the scratches, as if to lift away all the spite with which they'd been dealt.

'I still ain't thanked ya,' she whispered. He shrugged underneath her, head propped up on his pillow.

'Forget about it.'

'No,' she said, hushed but resolute. 'Never. You saved my life, Race.'

Streets stretched out her other arm against his ribcage, able to feel his lungs steadily rising, falling, rising, falling.

'I'd do it again,' he murmured. 'You're too much of a gem for me not to.'

Streets bit back tears, but at least this time they came painlessly from a good place in her heart. She closed her eyes and uttered a final sentence before drifting into sleep:

'Just let me know when I can return the favor.'

'So,' Jack whispered to Ace as they lay holding hands, side by side. 'What were you sayin' about not bein' leader material?'

She smirked in the dark.

'Alright, Jack, I'll admit you were right. An' I'm glad.'

'Good,' he said, propping himself up on an elbow to lean over her. ''Cause I'm only as strong as you are.'

Crutchy heard them kiss above his bunk, and sighed under his blankets. Sleep was what he needed, not more grief. He blocked out the sounds around him and played out his memory of Skates gliding across the frozen lake in Central Park. He could tell he was falling into a dream when he saw himself skating with her, hand in hand, just the two of them.

Skittery was not so quick to fall asleep. He lay flat on his bunk and stared up at the ceiling which, in the night, was just a nebulous shadow. He vaguely wondered how he could have a bunk to himself for a solid eight years, and yet miss the presence of another person after just over a week of sharing with her.

His eyes were tired; _he_ was tired. But his emotions were still going in circles trying, in vain, to sort themselves into a manageable order.

Like it or not, Skittery's mind projected a vivid memory onto the dark ceiling, like a moving picture on a screen. He was simultaneously the viewer and the protagonist:

'_Sorry.'_

'_Oh, don't worry, it's okay…'_

'_You got enough room there?'_

'_Yeah,' lied Vi, squashed between Skittery and the edge of the mattress. It was only their first night - they'd have plenty of time to sort out the most comfortable arrangement._

_The next morning, they woke up veritably entangled._

'_Oh,' mumbled Vi, lifting her head from his chest and realizing how agonizingly numb her arm was - somehow, it had ended up under his back._

'_What the -' was all he got out, seeing a leg raised all the way over her hip under the blanket, without quite making the connection that it was his. And then, of course, Kloppman went and tugged it off them. That brought them out of their stupor:_

'_Ah! So cold!'_

'_I need coffee…'_

_The following night, they went to bed with equal doses of apprehension. _

'_So, um…'_

'_Maybe we should -'_

'_What?'_

'_Nothin',' she'd said._

'_No, what?'_

'_Uh, well, maybe we should just accept we're both odd sleepers.'_

'_Right, yeah. Odd sleepers, that we are.'_

_Again, they tried lying on their backs, with only their arms touching. But that night, Vi dozed off before he did, and Skittery suddenly felt her turn over and encircle his waist with her arms. At first he was deeply uncomfortable, conscious of every small movement and breath his body made. However, the more tired he grew, the more lax he became about making himself cozy: of his own accord, Skittery returned the embrace, soothed by the faint scent of her violet perfume._

_On the third night, the two of them climbed into the blankets and lay down, listening to the dying conversation in the light of a half moon. When all was quiet, he naturally assumed she'd dropped off to sleep, but then her whisper rose into the air:_

'_You still awake?'_

'_Yeah,' he replied. 'You?'_

_It took him a second to notice; he mentally smacked his palm into his face. Vi politely covered up her laugh._

'_I can't stop thinkin' about Crutchy an' Skates.'_

'_Hm,' he nodded in the dark._

'_Ain't it funny how these things just happen all of a sudden.'_

'_Sure is.' He felt goosebumps on both their arms - probably just the cold._

'_I wonder what that feels like,' mused Vi._

'_What what feels like?'_

'_To just…know.'_

'_I dunno.'_

'_Neither do I.'_

'_I guess…' he thought, eyes wandering over outlines of objects in the moonlight. '…It all comes down to two people satisfyin' their curiosity.'_

'_Yeah,' murmured Vi. 'That sounds about right. Curiosity.'_

_He didn't expect any of what followed, but as soon as it began, it made perfect sense: Vi made the smallest movement with her hand so that it half-rested in his. He slowly closed his fingers around hers, praying his palms wouldn't go sweaty._

_Whether it was a sixth sense or simply coincidence, Skittery and Vi turned their heads inwards at the same time, taking in the other's face, just visible in the white glow from outside._

_He swallowed down any and all self-doubt before it had the chance to stop him from leaning over and kissing her. Vi arched her shoulders to make room for his arm as he held her close, and ran a hand through his soft brown hair. They kept this going for a handful of minutes that stretched out into the night, which was endlessly theirs, all theirs, and after that, they settled down into a cuddle. The bunkmates were by then, without a doubt, fully relaxed around each other._

Skittery had to accept that this insomnia was not going to leave him anytime soon.

**A/N: Fyi, I didn't expect this chapter to take the direction it did, like, at all, but there you go! As always, reviews are not only welcome, but actively encouraged ;) **

**AA/N: On a COMPLETELY unrelated note, I noticed something on my last viewing of Newsies (er, yesterday), and no one else seems to have mentioned it on any forums anywhere, so I'll get it off my chest here. The scene in the lodging house lobby, when Snyder comes to snoop around? We can clearly see a kind of pigeonhole nook set up, for post and such things, behind Kloppman. My question is this: if the newsies are mostly orphans and runaways, then…who on earth would be sending them post? And if it's not for the newsies, then how is it all for Kloppman alone? I mean, take a close look - there are quite a few letters and envelopes tucked away! But then…if it's neither all for him nor for the newsies, then **_**whose post is it? **_**That is the Big Unsolvable Question. Unless, of course, you'd like to review and answer it :P**


	11. Victory Is Everything

**Chapter Eleven**

**Victory Is Everything**

**A/N: Ok, so Ealasaid Una came up with the neat idea that old newsies send Kloppman letters to keep him updated on how they're doing. How sweet would that be? ^_^ In other news, I was really touched by Stardust, LovesBrooklyn, and Nicely Nicely's Little Sister's last reviews - thank you all so much!**

'Don't be noivous now,' muttered Jack to Ace.

'Who says I'm noivous?'

'Yer hands.'

'Damn it, hands, you're a real nuisance sometimes.'

They turned the corner to the distribution center. The stores surrounding the square were only just preparing to open up; shop boys cleared the sidewalk of overnight snow and rubbed away frost from the front windows.

The residents of Duane Street (and David) stopped at the gates, but continued their conversations, almost determinedly so, in the immediate shift of atmosphere.

'What're all youse gawkin' at, huh?' snapped Rich, taking the no-nonsense approach. Whole groups of eyes averted themselves instantly, before snapping to the circulation bell as it rang out into the cold air.

Once in a queue, Ace, Streets, Madison, Darlin' and Rich couldn't help but notice other, non-lodging, newsies deliberately keeping a distance, avoiding so much as a brush of contact with them.

'You'd think we was carryin' a plague or somethin',' said Streets with a shake of the head.

Ace kept a steady eye on the front desk as it edged closer and closer. Jack got his papes and moved aside.

'Well well,' said Wiesel, straightening up from his slouch over the record book. 'Look who's showin' their face even after yesterday.'

'Not that it's any of your business,' said Ace, hands in her coat pockets. 'But the court says we're free women. An' free women still gotta earn a livin'.'

'Don't seem like all a' youse are free though,' snickered Morris, tallying up the newsgirls waiting behind her.

'Shut your face, Delancey.'

'Or what?'

'Or that hat'll be the only thing left of ya.'

'Ooh, I'm shakin' wit' fear,' he jibed.

'Just let me see the damn headlines already.'

'Alright, alright,' grumbled Wiesel, sliding a paper over the counter. She should have guessed what would be on it from their snide expressions; it didn't stop Ace's heart from delaying its next beat when she saw a triptych of grainy photographs lined up under the dramatic, **'CROSS-DRESSING NEWSGIRLS PROVOKE DIVISIVE LEGAL SCANDAL'. **

On the left she saw her arms, crossed over her face, as she exited the courthouse. On the right was Rich, stony-eyed and eager to get away. The center photograph showed Vi with her parents, captured in all their unspoken resentment.

She turned her head back to the counter, without conveying a single emotion. She took out a handful of coins and said, cool as ice water:

'Ninety.'

Wiesel and the Delanceys' faces fell - this was not the reaction they'd been hoping for. Jack watched, wide-eyed, from the bottom of the ramp as the papers changed hands.

'You sure about this, Ace?' he asked. They scanned the front page together.

'If anyone knows how to sell this story, it's us,' she replied. 'An' besides, the customers'll be too flummoxed by the headline to realize the goils in question are the ones sellin' 'em the pape.'

'Sure,' he nodded, choosing trust over anxiety.

'Well ain't this just grand,' drawled Streets, joining them with Racetrack. 'At least they didn't get a picture a' me here.'

'What about the other papes?' said Race.

'Let's just pretend they don't exist, alright?'

'Fine by me,' he said, puffing on a cigar.

'They've been real clever about this,' said Madison, appearing next to them.

'Whaddya mean?' asked Mush.

'They put Vi's photo in the center,' she replied. 'It just screams, 'look at this misguided mess of a high society goil, now due for a good dose of family correction.' Steers the buyers towards a conclusion before they've even started readin'.'

'You're right,' said Ace. She had neither the energy or time to read the article at length, so she moved onto other, less sensational items for a welcome distraction.

Their group was just about to leave the distribution center when Oscar's nasal voice sounded out from behind the desk:

'Hey goils, why bother wearin' the hats? Not like ya need 'em now.'

'It's mid-December and our heads are cold,' replied Rich with a roll of the eyes. 'Whaddya expect?'

'Well,' said Oscar. 'Maybe if ya went back to the kitchen the cold would stop bein' a problem.'

Ace and Darlin' almost reflexively restrained Rich when she lunged in the direction of the desk.

'Y'know Oscar,' said Jack. 'That was so witty, we all forgot to laugh.'

'He's just voicin' the truth, Kelly,' said Morris, sneering from behind the grille as their uncle continued to do all the work.

'Is this the part where we're supposed to feel threatened?' said Ace, easing her grip on Rich, who took a breath. ''Cause me, I'm just bored.'

'So am I,' said her friend, fists clenched. 'Keep those jibes up, Delancey an' Delancier, an' you'll be on the receivin' end of some sharp knuckles. In fact,' Rich continued, steely eyes surveying the rest of the newsboys. 'That goes for everyone. Yeah, we might be a joke to ya now, unnatural, unholy, whatever terms ya call. So what? I dare ya, _I dare any one of ya_, to step up an' say it to our faces.'

The square was filled with tense silence as Rich stood her ground. No one took up the challenge. She tugged her cap forward.

'Exactly. C'mon, let's go sell.'

'Well said, Rich,' grinned Jack, patting her on the back. Ace left a hard glare in the Delanceys' wake as she walked out with her friends.

'Let he without sin be the first to cast a stone,' she said, half-smiling. 'An' all that.'

She got scowls in return, but that was only to be expected.

'Oy vey,' said Madison as they exited the gates. 'Ya do realize we're gonna get a dose a' that for days on end?'

'Ah, let 'em kvetch if they wanna,' said Rich, visibly better off for getting that rant out of her system. 'Like any headline, this'll die down eventually.'

'If I had a glass a' somethin',' said Ace, holding up a pape. 'I'd toast ya to that.'

**A/N: Gold star to the first person who can tell me where today's chapter title comes from in the film ;) But if not, I'd love a review from you anyway! Until tomorrow, newsies…**


	12. We Got A Promise To Keep

**Chapter Twelve**

**We Got a Promise To Keep**

**A/N: Aaand the gold star goes, appropriately, to Stardust ^_^ But well done NNLS and LovesBrooklyn for guessing right as well - in his first villainous scene, Pulitzer says (in his very brooding way) "victory is everything". Is he right? Hm...*rhetorical question of the day***

On the evening of December 24th, amidst the hustle and bustle of eleventh-hour customers, four sets of footprints tracked themselves through the snow.

'And you're absolutely sure ya left the letter on the right windowsill?'

'As sure as I can be,' said Darlin' to Ace. 'She'll know we're comin'.'

'We're open late this evening, folks!' barked a butcher in a long, stained apron from the open door of his shop. 'Get yer Christmas meats at reduced prices before they all go!'

'Great,' said Specs. 'Now I'm gonna spend all night dreamin' about turkey, most certainly,' said Specs.

'Oh, don't,' said Dutchy. 'You're makin' me hungry already.'

'Here we go,' said Darlin' when they reached the first building on 151st Street. 'We gotta climb up to the fourth floor.'

'Aw rats,' groaned Specs, glancing at the stairs upon stairs that wound in tight zigzags down the side of the apartments.

Despite the below-freezing temperature, by the time the four newsies had clambered their way up to the top of the fourth staircase, they were hot under their collars.

'What's the time?' whispered Ace. Dutchy got out his fob watch.

'Nine o'clock, on the nose.'

'She should be here any second then.'

Darlin' snuck a peek over the balcony railing, through the window of a warmly glowing apartment. Her face lit up to match it.

'Here she is!'

The white window frame stiffly raised itself off the sill. Frames stuck her head out with an enormous grin.

'Well, if there's a Christmas gift better than this, I don't know what it is.'

'Aw, Frames,' beamed Dutchy, as the girl swung her legs over to join them outside. 'It's been too long.'

'We've sure missed ya,' said Specs.

'Not as much as I've missed all 'a youse,' said Frames, squeezing the air out of Darlin's lungs. She had never actually hugged Specs or Dutchy before, but now seemed like the most appropriate time to start.

'Look at you in a skirt,' said Specs. 'Could almost fool people into thinkin' you're a real lady.'

'Oh, hush now,' Frames chuckled quietly, delivering a soft punch to his arm. The four of them took up seats on the arctic steps.

'What's that you got there?' she asked, nodding at a brown envelope in Dutchy's hand. He handed it to her.

'Just some tokens of our Christmassy affection,' he replied. 'From all a' us.'

'Oh goodness,' said Frames. 'Ya really didn't have to get me anything…but thank you. Can I open it now?'

'Go ahead.'

'How's the evenin' been with your family?' asked Ace, as Frames carefully sliced open the envelope with a thumbnail.

'Strangely nice,' she replied. 'My mother did a good roast chicken wit' oranges an' spices an' things…'

The newsies didn't let on how ravenous that made them feel.

'…Then we talked a little while, had some mulled wine, an' now they're in bed. Or at least they said they were.'

She checked over her shoulder - all was clear. When she turned back to view the contents of the envelope, Frames felt as though her heart had been wrapped tightly in a silk ribbon.

'Oh my word.'

She held three handmade bookmarks in her fingers like an open fan, stroking their corners fondly.

'You can use 'em for your Bible,' said Ace. 'Or anythin' else you're readin', for that matter.'

'How long did it take you guys to do all a' these?' asked Frames, examining each self-contained sketch and doodle that covered the white bookmarks.

'We passed 'em round, one at a time, over a few days,' said Darlin'. She couldn't resist pointing: 'The kitten in a newsie cap is mine.'

'Aw, it's adorable. My heart's gone all mushy.'

'Well darn,' said Specs. 'Looks like Mush can do that even when he ain't around.'

They all laughed, before shushing themselves. Frames slid the bookmarks back into the envelope and held it close to her chest.

'Thank you so much. An' tell everyone the same.'

'We will,' said Darlin'. She exchanged a secretly apprehensive glance with Ace before asking the following:

'So…how's it lookin' on the, y'know, parental front?'

Frames smoothed the envelope out on her lap and circled figures of eight over it with her fingertips. Her sigh was lighter than rice paper on a breeze.

'Well,' she said. 'When I first got home, everything kinda happened at once, so there wasn't a lotta time for talkin'. They've just been so relieved, more than anything else, that I'm alive an' well. We've had family members come by from all over town - my sister wit' her husband and their baby, my brother, my cousins, second cousins, third cousins, you name it.'

'But it's been nice?' prompted Darlin'.

'Oh yeah, real nice,' said Frames sincerely. 'But the last few days have seen a mood change. Not a real bad one, don't get me wrong, but my parents have more or less given me an ultimatum.'

'And what's that?' asked Ace with a sinking feeling.

'I know all they want for me is a secure, respectable future,' said Frames. She looked at Specs and Dutchy before gazing up at the night sky. 'So…either I agree to be married to a suitor of their choice, or I become a nun.'

Her words settled like snowflakes in the silence. Darlin' bit her lip.

'What d'you say to that?' she asked, despite already knowing the answer.

'I know it the ain't ideal time,' said Frames softly. 'But the more I think about it, the more the thought of takin' vows don't seem like such a fantasy anymore.'

'You're really gonna join a convent?' said Dutchy, not quite able to mask his disappointment.

'I've always looked up to nuns,' nodded Frames. 'Ever since I was a little girl. They do so much good for other people, an' a lot more than I could ever do as a wife an' mother, neither of which I wanna be.'

'Does that mean we'll never see ya again?' said Specs.

'Oh, of course we'll still see each other,' said Frames, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'I promise that. After all, we're the Three Glassketeers, ain't we?'

The three of them subconsciously adjusted their spectacles at the same time, and smothered the chuckles that consequently ensued.

'An' before ya ask,' Frames continued, looking at Ace. 'I ain't just sayin' this to make my parents happy. I mean, it _will_ make 'em happy, or at least moderately satisfied, but it's honestly gonna be the right thing for me. I can just feel it, y'know?'

'Like a sign?' suggested Ace.

'Exactly. Maybe all the madness of this last month has been for a reason I didn't see then. I mean, I love all you guys. An' I've had a swell time bein' a newsie - I needed that kind of joy. But my life's gotta turn onto a new chapter sometime, right?'

'Whatever the chapter is,' said Ace. 'I just hope it gives ya a happy ending.'

Frames felt her spirit lift, and spread her arms, prompting a (somewhat physically uncomfortable) group hug.

'You're not too upset, are ya?' she mumbled, glancing warily at Dutchy and Specs; they just smiled.

'Hey, if bein' a nun's gonna make you happy,' said Specs. 'Then that'll make us happy…about your happiness…an' all that.'

She grinned, rubbing her arms for warmth.

'Listen, I probably need to get back in there before my parents realize I ain't in my room.'

Her friends nodded. They stood up for a last round of hugs, and Frames watched them quietly descend the stairs again. Once they'd touched ground, she waved a cheerful goodbye.

'Merry Christmas!' she whisper-shouted. 'See ya soon!'

Ace, Darlin', Specs and Dutchy waved back, before returning to Duane Street.

* * *

'Well,' said Rich quietly. 'I guess it only makes sense.'

'Yeah,' nodded Madison with sad eyes.

'Of all the people I know,' mused Darlin', warming her hands by the fireplace. 'Frames is the one who'd make the best nun, without a doubt.'

'It's just such an odd idea,' said Racetrack. His feet were up on one of the side tables. 'When I think a' nuns, I think, 'kindly old ladies with traditional values', not a newsie.'

'What d'you think, Ace?' asked Jack. They sat in armchairs across from one another, long legs stretched out side by side. She drummed her fingers on the armrest with calm eyes.

'I think it'll certainly take some gettin' used to,' she replied. 'But havin' got to know her this year, I know she meant it when she said it was gonna make her happy. Granted it's not exactly a free choice for her, but it's still a chance for fulfillment, an' I guess, ultimately, that's what counts.'

The others seemed to agree. Next to Darlin' and Rich, Boots gave a very open yawn.

'Careful now,' said Rich. 'I can see your tonsils.'

The newsies' laughter lightened the mood considerably.

'Maybe we oughta head up to bed,' said Blink, stretching his arms like a cat. Darlin' giggled at the sight.

'Good idea,' said Race. 'Tomorrow's one a' the exceptionally rare days we get a lie-in, an' I intend to take full advantage of it.'

He rolled up off the couch and offered a hand to Streets.

'M'lady?'

'Now when 'ave I ever been a lady to you?' she drawled, taking his hand all the same.

'You can be when ya try real hard…' said Race smoothly. 'An', y'know, if the lights are dim an' I squint real hard -'

'Ah, shaddup you -'

'You what? You what?' he teased, tickling her ribs. She squealed and batted him off. Ace and Jack rolled their eyes and got up too.

Just as they all began filing up the stairs to the bunkroom, Rich anxiously slid a thin parcel tied with string out from under a cushion.

'Streets? Hold on a sec.'

Her friend paused on the banister, turned around, and moved against the current of newsboys to come back down. She gave a small, bemused smile at the parcel in Rich's hands.

'Uh, is this for me?'

'Yeah.'

'But…it ain't Christmas mornin' yet.'

'I know,' said Rich, not sure what to do with her hands now that she'd placed the parcel in Streets' arms. 'But I thought I should give it to ya now, so that…ya can have somethin' else to wear when ya wake up.'

'Wear?'

Streets was as intrigued and puzzled as the boys, who'd stopped on the stairs to watch. Race craned his neck over the banister in between Snoddy and Blink. With her back turned to them, all he could see was the movement of her hands as she undid the string and let the brown parcel paper unfold in her palms.

He waited, frowning, able to see neither the gift nor Streets' reaction to it. She just stood before Rich, one arm hanging at her side as she stared down.

Rich swallowed, eyes fixed on her friend's face as she looked from the gift to her, then back down, then back up, all the while in a state of speechlessness.

'…How?' whispered Streets. 'I mean…I thought it…_how_?'

'I went back to the courthouse the next day when I was sellin',' said Rich. 'And in all honesty, I didn't expect to find it still there, but clearly…a small miracle happened, because here we are.'

With shining eyes and a trembling hand, Streets carefully took up the fabric of her father's shirt and let the parcel paper float to the floor. She held it up at the shoulders, staring open-mouthed at how well Rich had sewn the sleeves back on.

'I hope ya don't mind that I gave it a little scrub,' said Rich. 'It just got kinda dirty from the snow an' all…'

She didn't have to say anymore: Streets held the shirt with one hand and pulled her friend into a close hug with the other.

'You're the best,' she said, voice cracking like a soft eggshell. 'Ya hear me? The best. Thank you so much Rich.'

'You're welcome, hun.'

'Okay,' said Streets, as they both turned back to the stairs, and to a backdrop of grins. 'I'm gonna put this somewhere real safe until tomorrow, 'cause I don't wanna undo all yer hard work. Now someone get me to bed before I cry my eyes out.'

'I'd be happy to oblige,' piped up Racetrack, his heart thoroughly warmed. Streets and Rich tailed behind everyone else as they retired to the bunkroom.

'An' to think of all the times I groused about all the sewing practice my mudda forced on me,' said Rich with a wry smile.

**A/N: Man, writing about Christmas in September is just a l-i-t-t-l-e bit strange 0_o Let me know what you thought! Until next time, newsies :)**


	13. Gotta Be Either Dead or Dreamin'

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Gotta be Either Dead or Dreamin'**

**A/N: Thanks, thanks, thanks and thanks to LovesBrooklyn, NNLS, Ealasaid Una, and Stardust! You continue to rock ;)**

At four p.m., in time with the authoritative echo of a city clock tower, tall black gates opened into the streets. Crowds of young women and girls shuffled from Old Treesmith Mill, their fingers calloused and numb, some stained with dried blood, from nine hours of operating sewing machines.

Skates's forearms ached from all the turning, turning, turning of the machine wheels and gears. She acknowledged with a grim kind of gratitude that at least the pain wasn't worse than it might have been, after such a long hiatus from working at her station: waving papes like flags for hours on end had kept her muscles from getting weak.

Through strands of curly hair that came loose under her winter bonnet, Skates saw her mother waiting across the street, as usual. She sighed and crossed over in the rapidly fading sunlight.

'Evening, ma.'

'Evening, dear,' she cooed, kissing her daughter through the bonnet. 'I hope they didn't work you too hard today.'

'No, it was fine today.'

This was the way every conversation had gone over the last month. They walked back to the apartment three blocks away, along the same route her mother had taken her that morning. If Skates fell asleep right there and then, her legs could likely be trusted to carry on regardless.

'Mind if I clean up before dinner?' asked Skates when she and her mother stepped through the door.

'Of course not, dear. You've had a long day.'

'Thank you.'

She went through the living room/kitchen/washroom to her bedroom. As soon as the door shut, Skates fell into the middle of her narrow bed, relieved and stifled in equal parts. It was wildlytempting to crash into a slumber while she finally had a moment alone, but at a short tap on her window, she was more animated than a hummingbird on coffee.

Skates fought to keep her happy gasp quiet as she got off the bed, knelt at the windowsill, and opened up the one barrier left between herself and her sweetheart.

'You're here, oh you're really here,' she murmured, veering between exhaustion and giddiness.

'Well, unless we're both in a wonderful dream,' said Crutchy. 'I'd say ya got that right.'

Skates cupped his neck and kissed him, feeling all the warmth in the world return. She felt his gloved hands hold her face and, even when the kiss stopped, never wanted them to leave it.

'Aww…' she squealed. 'It looks so sweet on you.'

'Keeps this brain a' mine warm too,' he grinned, tugging lightly on one of the flaps of his newly knitted winter cap.

'I started knittin' it almost the second I got here from the courthouse,' said Skates. 'It's the only thing I can do to clear my head that ain't sewin'…always damn sewin'.'

'Well at least ya ain't got work tomorrow, right?'

'Too right. Thank God for New Year's,' said Skates. Her bare hands rested in his on the windowsill. 'What are ya doin' to celebrate?'

'Oh, uh, we'se goin' to Medda's tonight. She loves bein' the hostess of a good shindig,' said Crutchy, before quickly adding: 'Not that it'll be that excitin' or nuttin', I mean I -'

'Crutchy,' Skates interrupted gently. 'It's alright. Go, have fun wit' the newsies. Drink, sing, be merry. Oh wait…'

'I already am?' he finished for her. They chuckled in the close gap between their noses. If Skates could take the icy breeze out of the air, in her head, the two of them would be back at Irving Hall, about to kiss for the first time all over again.

'I just feel bad ya can't be wit' us at midnight,' he said softly. He took off one glove and let their palms tingle together.

'Sure I'll be wit' ya,' said Skates. 'When the clocks a' New York City all strike twelve, just know I'll be picturin' your hand in mine, an' your lips on mine, _really_ hard.'

His brown eyes twinkled at the thought.

'Then so will I.'

'We'll see in the new century together.'

'That we will. Oh boy, 1900…' Crutchy saw the numbers in his head as distant hot air balloons yet to land on earth. 'Who knows what'll happen, huh?'

Skates found it difficult to respond right away. She squeezed his hand and tried not to fall apart too much inside.

'Unfortunately, I do.'

* * *

'Wait, wait…' said Swifty, eyes narrowed in concentration. 'Show me again?'

Madison rolled her eyes and could only laugh.

'Swift, you can watch me do the trick until Pulitzer pops his clogs, but it still won't reveal _how_ the trick is done.'

'Hey, they don't call me Swifty 'the Rake' for nuttin',' he replied proudly, puffing out his chest. 'I'se the master a' sleights of hand. Now show me again, if ya please.'

'Suit yourself,' shrugged Madison, shuffling her cards again. 'Guess I could use all the practice I can get.'

'You're really learnin' a lot from that Wizard of Wonder, ain't ya?' said Bumlets, watching Swifty watch Madison watch her cards.

'Okay,' she sighed. 'Pick a card. Any card at all.'

'Heya Crutchy,' said David, waving the boy in.

'Heya Dave, how ya doin'?' He shut the front door and took off his Christmas hat.

'Fine thanks. How's Skates?'

'Hm? Oh, she's gettin' by, she says. Certainly glad to have a day off tomorrow.'

'I'll bet,' said David, glancing back and forth from the book open on his knees. 'I've heard working in the city mills is getting slowly better since the strike victory, but it still can't be much fun.'

Crutchy just shrugged lightly.

'You're right, it ain't,' said Ace. She got up from the staircase and gestured to Kloppman's office. 'Listen Crutchy, ya got a sec?'

'Sure,' he said.

'May we…?' she asked Kloppman, who was sitting at the front desk answering some letters.

'Go ahead,' he replied. Normally his office (read: bedroom) was off-limits to the newsies, but making Crutchy hobble all the way up to the bunkroom just for some privacy would be both impractical and unkind.

Crutchy followed Ace into the oaky, candlelit room and closed the door behind them. He leaned on the doorknob for a while, not sure what to with his face now that he could stop pretending.

'How do you feel?' Ace asked cautiously. He slowly met her gaze and answered, blankly:

'Either like the world's stopped, or I have.'

'Sounds about right,' she said quietly, gently leading him away from the door and to the edge of Kloppman's humble bed, where they both sat.

'When did she tell you?' asked Crutchy. 'Yesterday?'

'Yeah,' nodded Ace. 'An' it killed me not to tell ya, but Skates wanted you to hear it from her.'

'So she said.'

They sat in silence for a while, two small boats on a vast, rocky sea.

'Engaged,' he finally said, staring at the floor. 'I never thought I could hate a word so much, but there ya go.'

'I'm so sorry Crutchy,' murmured Ace. The boy rubbed his hands and blinked back tears.

'All I wanna do is lie on my bed an' sleep,' he said. 'Maybe until the next century comes round.'

'I know,' said Ace. She'd never been good at comforting pats on the back, but made the effort nonetheless. 'The last thing I'm in the mood for is a celebration.'

Crutchy closed his eyes and took a long, meditative breath.

'But.'

'But.'

They looked at each other again and knew they were thinking the same thing.

'Skates is right,' sighed Crutchy. 'Drink, sing, be merry, at least for one night.'

'Start off the new century with some hope,' supplied Ace. He nodded slowly.

'Tell the others tomorrow?'

'I think that's wise,' she said, standing up. 'Until then, we just gotta put our feelings in a box for a few more hours.'

With that, Ace and Crutchy rejoined the rest of the room, faces neutral.

'Hey Ace,' said Darlin', looking knowingly at the fireplace. 'Feel like gettin' resourceful with makeup again?'

She chuckled, remembering the nail-biting experience of Rich lining her eyes with soot before her one-time date with David.

'Sure, where's a tiny brush?'

'Hey fellas,' said Crutchy, putting the knitted hat back on. 'I need a second opinion: ya think this'll clash wit' my bow tie?'

As she followed the girls up to the bunkroom, Ace glanced back down at Crutchy and felt even more respect for him than usual.

**A/N: Emotions, WHY? *****weeps* As always, if you haven't reviewed yet, then it's never too late to start! And if you've been reviewing all the way along…well, keep doing that, because it's Awesome with a capital A (as you can see).**


	14. Better To Die Than To Crawl

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Better To Die Than To Crawl**

**A/N: Hey guys, hey, hey guys…'Stop the Presses' has as many reviews as 'Even The Score' does, and this isn't even finished yet! Stardust, LovesBrooklyn, NNLS, arosequartz, you're too good to me ;D**

She wasn't sure what exactly was keeping her up. The tick…tick…ticking clock? The whispering pipes behind her bedroom walls? February's cold howl against her window? It could be any and all of these things.

Vi lay in her bed with the blankets shrugged down to her wrists. Her head was clear, eyes awake, and thoughts lucid, as though the sandman had missed her altogether when scattering his grains of sleep.

After an unspecified block of time, she finally made herself sit up. Gray moonlight threaded through her curtains. Vi unfolded the covers from her legs and hauled her stiff legs onto the floor, with no idea of what she intended to do once she stood up.

Squinting through the darkness at her wall clock, she saw, to her dismay, that it was only half past one in the morning. Vi shivered in the night and tried not to feel claustrophobic. She looked at the tiny gleam of light that rested on her brass doorknob, closed her hand around it, and entertained the fleeting fantasy that it might just

…_be unlocked._

She almost jumped at the little click, but slowly, carefully, pulled the door open without any loud creaks. Vi took a step into the hallway and stood there, hugging her arms, reeling from the novelty of this freedom.

In bed, her mind had been alert. Now, on her feet, she padded down the hall to the front door without one thought in her head. After a single glance over her shoulder, back at the deserted apartment and her parents' closed bedroom door, Vi slipped on a pair of her leather boots that sat by the hat stand. She put her long winter coat over her nightgown and, still like a sleepwalker, disappeared behind the front door.

It took her two blocks to realize just what she'd done. Suddenly the air felt much colder, punishing her lungs for breathing. She pulled the collar of her coat closer to her neck and shrank inside it.

_What_ was she doing? Where could she possibly go? Her parents would come after her, they'd bring the bulls, and they would win. Again. Vi knew she had to turn around and go back, but acknowledging that only made her heart beat faster and her pace quicken. What was this white-cold feeling caulking her veins? Panic.

From across the street she heard men drinking and laughing uproariously at nothing, falling over each other outside a street of bars that all exuded the same warm, amber glow. Vi kept to the shadows, pretending she was invisible until the laughter faded.

Now she was at one end of a bridge, a lone wanderer between the spots of lamppost light. Her boots clacked softly against the cobblestones as she drifted to the middle of the right ledge. For no special reason, Vi came to a halt here.

She looked out at the point on the dark horizon where the river vanished, and at the black squares of buildings against a vast navy sky, starless. Then her eyes followed the river in reverse, back down to where the bridge sliced it off under her feet. Her head tilted all the way down.

Vi couldn't tell how deep the water was, but she guessed that if someone fell in, the current would close over their head effortlessly, absorbing them like some ectoplasmic mass.

How did it feel to be immersed in water that freezing? Past a certain temperature, Vi simply couldn't imagine it. As if to try and summon the feeling, she unbelted her coat and draped it over the ledge. Her body seized up in the glacial air, arms fastening themselves to her sides, but she didn't want to extinguish the pins and needles from her skin just yet.

It was a shame, she thought, that the water wasn't within arm's reach - she sincerely wanted to feel it against her skin and compare the sensations.

For the first time that night, Vi felt like going to sleep. The thought of walking back all the way to the apartment demanded too much energy, energy that she just didn't have anymore.

On the misty landscape of her mind, Vi wondered what it would be like to sleep in the water. She saw Ophelia, sinking on her back underneath a willow tree curtain, sinking into dark, inviting water, sinking into the longest sleep.

She put her fingertips on the stone ledge and flattened out her palms. The stone was cold. Everything was cold. She pressed her body against the bridge, lifted one knee to the top, just to test herself, just to see how far she might go. She folded her body in half until her hair was hanging past her face, framing the water below, murky and moving with the current, which roared into her ears.

Her hands were on the ledge. So whose hands were those around her ribs?

'_What are you_ _doing_!'

Vi felt herself get yanked back to the middle of the bridge. As soon as the hands removed themselves, whatever spell she was under broke, suddenly and violently, like a glass against the corner of a table.

'Oh God...' she whispered, feeling sick. 'Oh _God_.'

She bent her knees and put her hands on her face, catching gasps of delayed shock like a sneeze. Footsteps skittered from her to the ledge, and back again. Something heavy settled on her shoulders…oh, her coat.

'Vi.'

It was a monosyllabic whisper on the wind, but it carried enough power to bring Vi to full standing height.

It was all a dream. It had to be. She never got up from bed and walked out of the apartment because Skittery could not possibly be standing right in front of her, with his marbled brown eyes and burnt sugar skin and -

She threw her arms around him. He was real.

'What are ya…why were ya…_what were you thinking?_'

They hugged so tightly, warming each other's blood under their clothes and skin. He let go only to fasten her coat.

'I don't know,' murmured Vi at last, her voice thick and cracked from lack of use. 'I think the point is…I _wasn't_.'

His hands held her face as they stood in the shadowy center of the bridge, just outside the glow of the lampposts. She hadn't seen him so stricken since the day of the trial.

'You're in yer nightgown, for goodness' sake. How the hell did ya get all the way out here?'

'I walked,' replied Vi truthfully. 'My door was unlocked. It's never unlocked. I took it as a sign.'

'As a sign to jump off a bridge.'

'No,' said Vi, frowning. It was jarring to hear him put it that way, but then, she supposed that was exactly what she'd almost done. 'I just needed to get out.'

'Oh Vi…' moaned Skittery. He moved his hands to her shoulders and pulled her close again. 'I don't know if I'm happy or miserable to see ya.'

'I'm sorry I've been away so long,' she said into his neck, pain at the back of her throat.

'Hey, it ain't your fault, no…' He ran a hand over her wavy black hair and down her spine. 'How're you holdin' up?'

As soon as he said it, Skittery realized what a blindingly stupid question that was. He felt something damp trail down his neck when she answered:

'I'm tired, Skittery. I am so tired.'

'Aw, what're they doin' to ya?'

'Well,' said Vi, bringing her face back to meet his, tears fresh in her eyes. 'The only time I'm left alone is when I'm locked in my room. They nailed the window shut so I can't sneak out. "Just until we can trust you again," they keep sayin'. It's February: I don't even care about trust, I just wanna breathe.'

He stared, horrified.

'Y'know for the last two months I've had my own psychotherapist?' continued Vi with a hollow laugh. 'For two hours, three times a week, I have to lie on a chaise longue an' answer question after question that ain't none of his business. He an' my parents, they're a real connivin' force. They're convinced I'm hysterical, no matter what I say. I play their games - they become more superior. I resist - they call me 'difficult', 'in denial' or, a personal favorite, 'repressed.''

'How long are they gonna keep that up?'

'Until they see me 'cured',' muttered Vi. She closed her eyes and shook her head. 'But Skittery…every day it's havin' the opposite effect. They wanna see me turned around an' reformed before settin' me up with a husband, but the longer it goes on, the more I start wonderin' if I really am insane, like I don't know what to believe anymore.'

'I don't know what to say.'

'That makes two of us.'

Cold air swirled between them when they fell silent. As bitterly as it came out, Skittery knew he had to say it:

'You can't lose hope.'

'Well that's real easy for you to say, isn't it?'

He closed both hands over her left one, encasing it in warmth. Vi clenched her jaw and looked up at the blanket sky.

'It's just…' she mumbled. 'April feels so far away from where I am, y'know? I don't know what's gonna happen to me in that time, an' it hurts to even think about it.'

'I know', sighed Skittery. 'Look, Vi...I'se about to tell ya somethin' I don't usually tell just anybody. Ya know Tumbler's my brudda, right?'

She nodded, taking up his left hand with her right one.

'When he was five an' I was thirteen, our mudda got TB. Our pa was in jail, so we didn't have nobody when she died. Our landlord sent us into the streets wit' one bag a' stuff between the two of us. For two weeks we slept on the streets, beggin' for food an' washin' in the rain. I thought that was it, the end of life, the end of everythin'.'

'Skittery…' whispered Vi, squeezing his hands.

'An' then,' he continued. 'A newsie came an' talked to us. Said there was a place that'd take us in, give us food and a bed, an' a job.'

'Let me guess - it was Jack?'

'No, actually,' he said. 'It was 'dis guy called Green, 'cause he always wore bright green suspendahs. Left the newsies two years after me an' Tumbler joined. I'll always be thankful for him, but also for realizin' that, even when it really feels like you'll never get up from rock bottom, ya probably will.'

Vi brought his hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

'I know I have to go back,' she said quietly. 'And…yeah, I will. It's gonna be real tough though.'

'Yeah, it will be,' said Skittery. He lifted her chin so their eyes met. 'But in case ya need remindin', you're a tough gal. You'll get through this, however it ends, an' I'll keep thinkin' of ya every day.'

Her eyes shone.

'Every day?'

'Every single day. It's kinda impossible not to.'

Vi bit back more tears, of a happier kind, and gripped his hands hard. Their faces drew closer, until the distance between their lips was shorter than a rice grain.

'…I can't,' she whispered, letting her face fall onto his collarbone. Skittery closed his eyes and held her tight. 'I'm scared that if I do, it'll hurt too much to leave.'

Never before had he felt such a searing non-physical pain.

'Ya got a key?' he asked calmly.

'A key...?' Vi's hands flew to her coat pockets. To her amazement and relief, she felt its shape on her right side. 'Yeah, I do. Oh thank God.'

'Then you should get back,' said Skittery. He hated saying the right thing. 'Before they notice you're gone.'

'Yeah,' she said, forcing her hands to detach from his. 'Oh, wait.'

'What?'

'I ain't seen nobody or heard nothin' for _months_,' she said, stunned. 'What's happened? Skates an' Frames an' Streets, are they alright?'

'Um,' said Skittery, drawing a blank. How could he relay so much information in just a handful of words? 'Right. Well, ya see, Streets is safe wit' us, after her family disowned her…Frames is trainin' to become a nun, but she's happy about it, honest…an' Skates's wedding is due when the month is out.'

Vi was struck dumb. Her eyes searched the cobblestones for some coherence and order to impose on this news.

'That's…surreal,' she concluded. 'Skates…oh, I don't believe this. Poor her. Poor Crutchy, this must be killin' him.'

'We don't bring it up if we can afford it,' said Skittery with a dismal nod. 'But yeah, it's been a long, hard winter.'

They looked at each other again. Vi slowly backtracked to the end of the bridge, until she was half in the shadows.

'Tell them I'm thinkin' of 'em all,' she said.

'I will.'

'Thank you, Skittery. So much.'

'You're welcome.'

'…Goodnight.'

'Get home safe.'

Vi turned herself away, striding back down the streets of Manhattan with her head down, before the sight of his face grew too painful to leave.

On the bridge, Skittery put his head in his hands and groaned. This was the absolute last thing he'd expected on the way back from a late poker game in Harlem. Gratitude and regret battled for dominance inside his heart: gratitude because, without him, Vi might really have done the unthinkable. But also regret, because there were so many things he'd wanted to say, and just. Didn't. He didn't kiss her when the chance arrived. He didn't sweep her back to the lodging house, consequences be damned, just to hold her in their shared bunk again.

Skittery trudged through remnants of snow back to Duane Street, alone, in need of consolation. He found some in a motto Jack had given him and the newsies on the final day of the strike, which he sang under his breath:

'_Just get this done, and by dawn's early light/ You can finish the fight you began_.'

**A/N: Okay. You have all put up with a lot of angst over the last few days. Your soul may currently be in tiny pieces on the floor, in which case I'm terribly sorry - here, have a broom - but I promise, **_**I promise**_**, if you wait for tomorrow's chapter, it will be restored :)**

**AA/N: Suicide is a devastating thing. It isn't pretty or romantic, or a way of solving sadness. If anything mentioned in this chapter has affected you, then talk to someone (even if it's just me) about it, please!**


	15. Starin' Right Atcha

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Starin' Right Atcha**

**A/N: Thanks as always to Stardust, Ealasaid Una, NNLS and LovesBrooklyn for your reviews! Also…how fricking weird is this…today is National Suicide Prevention Day, but when I published the chapter in the early hours of this morning, **_**I had absolutely no idea**_**. 0_0**

**AA/N: Trivia of the day - the bridge Vi almost jumped off is the same one Darlin' fell off in 'Even The Score'. Yeah. **

Friday March 2nd was bright and cold at five o'clock in the morning. Rays of dawn sun broke the thin mist that wound lazily through Manhattan's streets, and the only people walking through them were workers who had just finished night shifts, plus the odd street sweeper. They noticed the lone woman who strolled up Greenwich Street, but once she'd vanished around the corner, in the direction of Duane Park, she likewise vanished from their minds.

* * *

Mrs. Starczewski woke when her husband made the bed creak. She lay with closed eyes in the settled warmth of their covers and listened to him lacing up his boots.

'Did I wake ya again?'

She smiled sleepily and blinked open her eyes. The sun was fresh and cutting.

'You always do, but it's no matter,' she yawned.

'Don't ya have to be up early for the dressmaker anyhow?'

'Oh yes, that's right.' Mrs. Starczewski sat up in the bed and began brushing her hair. 'Final alterations, I can hardly believe it.'

'Just two more days,' he said, throwing on a coat.

'Just two more days,' she repeated softly. 'I can hardly believe it.'

'You just said that.'

'Oh, I know, but it's true.'

'Peter's only going to be good for her,' he said, glancing at their daughter's bedroom door past the kitchen/washroom/living area.

'They'll look so beautiful together,' said Mrs. Starczewski dreamily. 'That is, if Leonie stands still long enough for the dressmaker to add the final pin.'

'What can I say, she must get her restlessness from me,' chuckled her husband, wrapping a thin scarf around his neck. He leaned over, kissed his wife on the cheek, and moved to the front door.

'Send her my love 'til dinnertime,' he called on the way out to work.

'Of course,' smiled Mrs. Starczewski. As long as she was awake, she might as well get a few chores out of the way before the dressmaker came knocking.

* * *

In the bunkroom of the Newsboys Lodging House, half a dozen pocket watches ticked half past five. Sun streaming through the large window gently raised the newsies to lighter levels of sleep, although while there was still time to spare, none of them would be waking up without intervention from a second party.

Horace Greeley's statue was, as usual, doubling as a bed for the newsie children who'd either missed their lodging house curfew or simply felt like sleeping up there. The woman never failed to be amused by the it.

The front doors of the lodging house weren't open yet. She needed to get in. The woman's skirt swished around her ankles as she peered down the side alley. A grin broke out on her face when she caught sight of a fire escape ladder up the wall.

* * *

The wall clock told Mrs. Starczewski it was eight a.m. The dressmaker was due in just thirty minutes. She finished drying up a plate, untied her apron, and crossed the room to her daughter's bedroom door.

'Leonie,' she called, rapping two knuckles against the wood. 'Leonie, are you awake?'

As usual when her daughter slept in, Mrs. Starczewski didn't bother waiting for an answer. She turned the knob and walked through the door. The lace curtains had been thrown open to let light flood the room.

Mrs. Starczewski was pleased to see her daughter's bed neatly made, but then her face fell and her heart went cold: there was no one _in _the bed.

'Leonie?'

She went back into the kitchen/washroom/living area to see if her daughter might have magically appeared there when her back was turned. She checked her own bedroom, but by this time, an all-too-familiar dread had started circulating in her blood.

'No…' she whispered, now remembering the small square of white on her daughter's bed that seemed insignificant the first time.

Mrs. Starczewski hurried through the doorframe once more, snatching up the folded paper. The more words of her daughter's handwriting she read, the deeper she sank into the edge of the bed.

_Dear Ma and Pa,_

_I know, a second time. But it's the last time, because I'm not coming back. If there's one thing you both forgot when planning the wedding, it's that today is my 18__th__ birthday. I won't be at the ceremony, but tell Peter I'm sorry and that I hope he has a good life just the same. And, just to be absolutely clear, tell him 'I don't'._

_Sorry again. I'll always think of you. Yours,_

'_The Woman Formerly Known As Leonie S'._

* * *

At a quarter to six, Skates felt uneasy climbing higher up the fire escape, considering what happened on the day of the arrest, but felt immediately better when she reached the big window that looked right into the bunkroom. Someone up there liked her: one of the panels was ajar.

Holding tightly onto the ladder with one hand, she stretched out with the other to nudge that part of the window open, wide enough for her to get a leg up and crouch on the sill. Taking quiet, excited breaths, Skates set her feet gently on the floor and closed the window behind her.

She turned around and stood still, in awe and disbelief. Here they were, all her friends in one room, and none of them had any idea she was here.

It was the small things that made Skates want to burst into tears of joy, as her eyes swept over the bunks: Snaps snapping; Blink with both eyes closed but a tan line around one; Streets and Race silently fighting for the blanket, their expressions content.

Still, their working day would start any minute now, and Skates fully intended to kick it off in the best way she could.

Silently commanding her boots to stay hushed against the creaky floorboards, she walked to a bunk bed on the left. Despite curling themselves up to the best of their abilities, Ace and Jack's feet still lay over the end of their top bunk, two pairs of socks resting on each other. It made Skates smile, but nowhere near as much as the person lying on the bunk below them.

She lowered herself onto the mattress, careful not to kneel on his legs, and rested her hands on either side of him. As soon as the mattress sank with her added weight, Crutchy stirred. Skates held her breath. She could have laughed, she was so nervous.

Crutchy sighed through his nose and pulled the blankets further over his shoulders. Finally sensing a change in atmosphere, he blinked his eyelids half-open. Skates could tell his body was one step ahead of his mind in waking up, because when his eyes first registered her, he reacted with a tilt of the head against his pillow and smiled languidly.

'Mhmm,' he sighed again. 'What a dream you are…'

She was, for the moment, a hazy vision bathed in golden light. Only when Skates lay a hand against his cheek did Crutchy's eyes snap wide open, bridging the gap between dream and reality.

'Thanks,' she whispered. 'But this ain't a dream. I'm here.'

As soon as she said it, Skates felt tears bob up in her eyes.

'I'm really here, hun.'

Crutchy kept his eyes locked on her face the whole time, refusing to take any kind of action until his hand had closed around hers and confirmed that she was, most definitively, real.

'Oh my god,' he squeaked. 'You're here!' He sprung up off the bunk altogether, taking Skates with him. They both stood, hugging each other like the entire bunkroom would crash down around them. Right here, right now, she was his crutch.

'But - but - how did ya - how are ya -?'

'Does it matter?'

'Not even a little.'

They hadn't kissed since before the trial. They both had morning breath. Neither of them had showered yet. And neither of them cared.

'_SKATES_!'

If Streets's cry hadn't woken up the entire population of Manhattan, it certainly woke up every newsie in the bunkroom. Thuds and yelps of pain sounded off, as heads smacked into posts and more than one person fell from their top bunk.

Crutchy could only fall about laughing against the bedpost as Skates was bombarded by hugs on all sides.

'We…we m-missed ya s-so much!' sobbed Darlin'.

'I missed ya too,' cried Skates. 'Now get off before I asphyxiate.'

'Sorry,' sniffled Streets.

When they let go, the first person in Skates's line of vision was the one who, after Crutchy, she'd wanted to see the most.

Ace's eyes sparkled. She brought her hands to her lips before flinging them around Skates.

'Aw, happy birthday, _you smart, brilliant gal_.'

Skates grinned from ear to ear. She moved to greet Madison and Rich.

'When Ma and Pa gave us a date for the wedding, I didn't dare say nothin' in case they clocked that I'd turn eighteen before the thing actually happened.'

'So now you're free?' said Jack, lifting her off the ground.

'Free as a bird,' Skates beamed. As she got caught in a three-way hug between Race, Blink and Mush, a pair of footsteps creaked their way up to the bunkroom.

'Alright kids, up an' at 'em! Carryin' the ban -'

Kloppman stopped short when he found every single newsie wide awake.

'…Well don't that make my job easier,' he said, before noticing what was different. 'Hey, look who it is!'

'Good to see ya again, Kloppman,' laughed Skates, hugging Swifty and Snitch.

'Good to see you,' he said, tipping his hat. 'Crutchy's been pinin' for your return every day since December, I tell ya.'

The young man blushed, but continued grinning uncontrollably. Skates paused in her hug from Itey to look back and sincerely say:

'So have I. Oh, it feels _glorious_ to be back.'

She turned to greet the next newsie; there was the briefest falter in her smile when she found Skittery looking down at her, but he embraced her just as fondly as the others. There was a mutual exchange of unspoken sentiments between the two of them: _I'm sorry_ and _It's alright_.

'So,' he said, half-smiling. 'Will ya be needin' some spare clothes?'

Skates looked down and remembered she was wearing her mill skirt, apron and blouse. Sheepishly, she glanced around the room and said:

'Y-e-s please.'

Within five minutes, a veritable hail of socks, vests, pants, shirts and suspenders had been tossed over her head.

'Ooh, so much choice.'

'Consider it a birthday gift,' said Racetrack, patting her on the shoulder. He and the others sauntered into the washroom. Crutchy hobbled over to Skates, and they went after them, arms entwined around each other.

'Welcome home,' he said, the light in his eyes as cheerful as the morning sun.

**A/N: Oh happy days ^_^ Share your thoughts, feelings and other randomness my way in a review! Until tomorrow, newsies…**


	16. No One Can Make Us Give Our Rights Away

**Chapter Sixteen**

**No One Can Make Us Give Our Rights Away**

**A/N: I'm glad to hear that your souls, readers, have been pieced back together ;) Thanks NNLS, LovesBrooklyn, Ealasaid Una, for your reviews.**

The following week, life for the newsies was almost back to normal. New York City had seen the last of its annual snow, the days stretched out longer, and a dove had made a twig nest for its babies atop the hat of Horace Greeley's statue.

'Y'know it's almost a year since we first ran from home?' said Skates.

'Oh, don't,' said Ace, shaking her head. 'I swear the more we grow up, the faster time gets.'

It was just gone half-six, and they were brushing crumbs off their hands from the nuns' morning distribution of breakfast rolls. The newsies reached the gates of _The World_ and loitered outside.

'I highly doubt you can.'

'I highly doubt your doubtin' that I can.'

'Well I highly doubt your highly doubtin' that I…' Racetrack paused, cigar in hand. 'Wait, what are we talkin' about?'

'I bet can do a better impression a' you than anyone else.'

'Careful Streets,' said Boots. 'Say the 'b' word around Race, an' you're askin' for trouble.'

She just raised her eyebrows at her boyfriend, who smirked.

'Whaddya bet?'

'If my performance knocks the socks off everyone here, then ya wash mine for a week.'

He did a mental risk assessment before suavely kissing and shaking her hand.

'An' vice versa if it stinks as much as _my_ socks do.'

'Deal,' said Streets. If she didn't already have the newsies' attention with this conversation, she certainly had it when she swiped Racetrack's cigar straight from between his lips.

'I believe dat's _my _cigar.'

By the time he overcame the shock, Streets had already swaggered into the drive outside the gates.

'Alright, alright, settle down boys!' she exclaimed, taking a puff from the cigar despite never having touched one before in her life. The small cough and watery eyes were the only blips in an otherwise spectacular rendition:

'Now I got a hot tip on a horse today, goes by the name a' Jaunty, but even if I luck out, who's to worry? Not me, I live each hour as it comes, an' if things don't work out, I just roll for it, double or nuttin'. Barely got a simoleon in my pockets, but I'm a real live wire, oh you betcha - 'bet' - my favorite word.'

The others were in hysterics; Racetrack just stared. Streets sidled up between Blink and Mush, resting a confident elbow on each shoulder.

'I don't know 'bout you guys, but I'm nabbin' a spot bang in the middle a' Central Park - it's a guaranteed sellin' point for scadoodles a' papes, I tell ya.'

'Oh my god,' guffawed Mush. 'This is amazin'.'

'Of course it's amazin', my good man,' said Streets, sliding back along the cobblestones to face the others. 'After all, who could deny the uniqueness a' my character, the skills I bring to the poker table, or the frankly exquisite state a' my hair every single mornin'?'

That one made Race crack a grin. On the final sentence, Streets tapped out a jig uncannily similar to Race's, on a table at Tibby's, during the celebration of the newsies' front-page picture.

'Make no mistake here' [tap] '_I_ am Anthony' [tap] 'Racetrack' [tap] 'Higgins' [tap] 'bold Italian-Irishman' [tap] a' the Manhattan newsies.'

She swept a hand across the brim of her cap and, without taking her eyes off him, returned the cigar to its rightful owner.

'Race,' cackled Jack, as a round of applause sprung up around the two of them. 'Oh Race…looks like you're playin' laundryman.'

'Damn,' he muttered, taking a long, stunned drag on his cigar. Then he frowned. 'Hey, wait a sec, I ain't never said the word 'scadoodle' in my _life_.'

'Eh, small technical detail,' shrugged Streets. She let a warm smile creep into her face, before slinging an arm around her beau.

'But don't sweat it, I won't make ya wash my socks.'

'What? But…' he looked instantly suspicious. 'Why not?'

''Cause I know you wouldn't make me wash yours if you'd won.'

That statement was a gamble in its own right, but it paid off: Race smiled crookedly at Streets and, giving precisely zero damns about who was watching, planted a kiss on her lips.

'Aw,' said Skates. 'You'll make an honest man outta him yet, Streets.'

'More like an honest pet.'

Streets and Race stopped kissing to send dirty looks the Delanceys' way. The brothers shoved Tumbler from their path, prompting a hiss from Skittery.

'Evening,' said Streets.

'What are ya, stupid?' said Morris. 'It's daytime.'

'Oh I know,' she replied. 'I just like pretendin' it's evening 'cause, y'know, then your ugly mugs are kept in the dark.'

'_Owch_,' said Racetrack gleefully, scalding his fingers on the air. 'Too right.'

'Look at him,' snorted Oscar. 'Dis guy's more lapdog than newsie.'

'What's that s'posed to mean, Delancey?' snapped Race.

'It means you're turnin' into a sap,' replied Oscar. 'Or at least more a' one than you was before.' He glared at Streets, Skates, Darlin', Madison, Rich and Ace in turn. 'Dese goils are turnin' all a' youse into saps.'

'Sure, sure,' said Ace, stepping out from the crowd, arms crossed. 'Your mind games would work if they weren't so blatantly transparent.'

'Careful Ace,' said Jack, joining her side. 'Too many big words an' Oscar's head might explode.'

Everyone except the Delanceys laughed uproariously. As the cacophony died down, the circulation bell could be heard ringing out from behind the gates, which swung open from the inside.

'Look you two,' Ace added, walking backwards with the flow of the newsies around her. 'I know you've been workin' real hard on devisin' new ways to rile us up 'cause it gives ya some twisted kind of pleasure, but…' She gave a hollow smile and shrugged. '…You're wastin' your time. Nothin' you say can break us.'

Ace turned her back on them to move into the morning queue, but Morris spoke up nonetheless:

'There's a lot we can _do_ that'll break ya, doll.'

The air shifted. Ace stopped in the middle of the ramp up to the front desk, slowly turned, and hit the ground to meet his stare with a single step down. Jack held up a hand to Wiesel before he could object to the hold-up.

'Are you gonna elaborate, or were those just empty words?' she said measuredly. Morris smirked, resting an elbow on his younger brother's shoulder.

'Oh I'll elaborate alright,' he said, pronouncing the new word syllable by syllable. 'Did Cowboy ever tell ya about what we did to Davey an' his dame sister?'

'_Almost_ did,' interrupted Jack. He and the others looked down at the square with tense eyes. Oscar threw a glance of casual malice Skates's way.

'What about the damage we did to your cripple boyfriend, huh? Maybe one day we'll equal the balance an' split the other shin.'

'Hey!'

'Shut up!'

'Watch it, ya bum.'

This last remark prompted Skates to jump down and stand with Ace. What she lacked in height, she made up for in the severity of her expression.

'You so much as breathe near him an' I'll break _both_ your shins.'

'That so?' said Oscar, amused. He looked at the Manhattan newsies again. 'See? Only a bunch a' saps would need a _goil_ to protect 'em.'

'Hey, hey,' called Wiesel from behind the counter. 'Knock it off, you two - you're holdin' up distrib -'

'They don't _need_ protectin' at all,' interjected Skates. 'But that don't mean we ain't gonna speak up when they're insulted by dimwits like you.'

'Exactly,' said Ace. 'An' it so happens we _like_ fightin' for 'em 'cause, frankly…' She looked admiringly, not just at Jack, but also at Blink, Mush, Crutchy, Racetrack, Skittery, Boots, all of them. '…They're better men than you got a hope in hell of bein'.'

Jack's smile glowed in the morning sun as the Delanceys stared stonily at the two newsgirls, jaws clenched. Then Morris, even by his own standards, did something incredibly stupid: he touched Ace. More specifically, he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her to the ground.

'Oh, go an' get screwed - it's all you're good for anyway.'

The newsboys, the other newsgirls, even Wiesel, cried out in anger, but before anyone could move to intervene, Ace sprung up like a cobra.

'Too far, Delancey.' She threw up her fists and nodded at Skates. 'Gōngjí tāmen.'

'Hai,' she replied. As Oscar and Morris wasted two seconds trying to work out what they'd just said, Skates swung her left leg up to her head and brought it down squarely on Morris's nose.

'Ah, Jesus!' he yelped through blood-smeared hands. Crutchy's jaw dropped open, as did everyone else's.

Ace whirled him around in his dazed state, about to punch him in the ribs; Oscar interrupted by kicking her in the back of the knee. She dropped to the ground again, gasping as pain jumped in shockwaves up her nerves.

Skates wasted no time in launching herself at Oscar. The two of them rustled up clouds of dust and straw as they writhed on the hard cobblestones, trying to pin each other down.

As soon as Ace had stumbled back onto her feet, Morris, blood streaking his face, cracked a palm over her jaw. That was when Jack came in.

'Try that again,' he growled, two hands balled up in the collar of Morris's shirt, keeping him against the sloped ramp. 'Try that again an' I'll kill ya. _Understand?'_

Blink, Snoddy and Skittery, meanwhile, had locked Oscar's arms behind his back and wrenched him off of Skates. She jumped up, albeit with a head rush, and narrowed her eyes at him like an eagle about to dive for a rat.

She'd just drawn her fist back in preparation, when a large, calloused hand closed over it.

'Enough!'

The five of them stared at Wiesel, who had burst through the office door seconds earlier. 'Enough, I say! Back off, all a' youse.'

With a grimace, Skates let her fist get pushed down and stepped backwards. Blink, Snoddy and Skittery begrudgingly released Oscar, who folded inwards and clutched his midsection.

'Ooh, right in the liver…'

'You too, Kelly,' ordered Wiesel sternly. 'Get off now, or I call the bulls on all of ya.'

'Alright, alright,' muttered Jack. He pushed himself off Morris, but not without a parting thunderous glare.

As Wiesel tried to calm a near-hysterical Morris, Jack hurried to Ace. She leant against the sill of the front desk, trying to wipe away the dark blood that flowed healthily from her bottom lip.

'Jack,' she said between gritted teeth. 'I'se sorry, so sorry…'

'Hey, hey, you got nuttin' to be sorry for, ya hear me?' he said, pulling her close. A bulb lit up over his head: he untied the red bandanna from around his neck and folded it into a square.

'Thanks,' she said, putting her hand over his as they used the cloth to stem the blood.

'For the love of God,' said Wiesel, looking exasperatedly around the distribution center, which had come to a complete standstill - even the boys who worked on the printing presses inside had come to see what the commotion was about. 'This is a workplace, not a boxing ring. Now - Wallace, if you'll take over - I wanna see every one a' youse get a stack of papes an' clear the hell out. That's an order.'

For possibly the first time in living memory, every single newsie in line obeyed the clerk without hesitation. Skates, Ace, Jack and the Delanceys bitterly made to go their separate ways, but Wiesel held up an arm.

'Not you. You stay.'

He herded the five of them up to the office door and gestured them to follow him inside. Jack, Ace and Skates exchanged bewildered glances with their friends, before disappearing into the back room.

What followed shocked them all.

'Disgraces!' snarled Wiesel, smacking both nephews clean on the cheek. Still holding a bloody nose, Morris almost crumpled. 'That's what you two are. I take ya in, give ya paid work, an' _this_ is the thanks I get?'

'But Uncle Wies -'

'You shut yer mouth, Oscar,' interrupted Wiesel with a jabbing finger. 'Look at yerselves - _you hit a woman_. You hit _two_ women, for cryin' out loud!'

Ace and Skates felt a small piece of their pride get chipped away, but didn't dare speak. Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing - it took everything in him to stop a grin from spreading onto his face.

'Throwaway comments, jibes…those I can let slide,' continued Wiesel. 'But violence? I thought you were raised better than that.'

'T-they asked for it!' protested Oscar; even he could feel his words go stale in the air.

'Sure,' said Wiesel, shaking his head. 'You keep tellin' yerself that. In fact, you can both keep tellin' yerselves that the whole train ride home to Pennsylvania.'

'_What?_' the Delanceys stared at their uncle, mortified.

'You heard what I said. I'll send a telegram to your parents, explainin' how life in the big city ain't workin' out for either of you. Maybe if you pack up your cases fast enough, I'll leave out today's incident.'

They couldn't scramble from the room quickly enough. Ace, Skates and Jack stared after the Delanceys as they vanished up the stairs, either to pack in a hurry or to bandage up their wounds - they couldn't tell.

Wiesel sighed heavily. He looked at the three newsies.

'You kids alright?'

'Yeah…thanks,' said Skates. The words weren't coming easily. 'Although, um, I just don't…why did ya do that?'

'Thought you felt the way they did,' said Ace, her words lisping.

'See, that's where you're wrong,' said Wiesel. 'I may not like what you an' your friends do, but I was raised on good morals, an' one a' the most important is, 'never hit a woman.' It ain't somethin' you deserve.'

'I don't know what t'say,' murmured Ace. She tentatively peeled Jack's bandanna from the corner of her mouth and found, to her relief, that the blood had stopped flowing.

'A 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss,' said Wiesel. He signaled for them to follow him back outside.

'Thank you,' said Ace and Skates. That was a fair enough request.

Jack had just put a foot on the threshold of the office door when Wiesel held him back by the crook of his elbow. Ace noticed and watched them over her shoulder. He muttered something in Jack's ear that she couldn't make out, either from eavesdropping or evaluating his expression, which stayed calm.

'Ace, Jack,' said Skates. 'Let's get our papes an' get outta here already.'

'Please,' nodded Ace. The three of them crossed the deserted square and emerged from the gates just as they were closing. Half a second later, they were surrounded on all sides by the Manhattan and Riverside newsies.

'What'd he say?'

'What's happenin'?'

'Nice shiner,' remarked Race, catching sight of Skates's left cheek where Oscar had landed a punch during their ground battle.

'Thanks for your concern, Race, I'm touched.'

'Oh, all the concern's over here with me,' said Crutchy, raising his hand before using it to pull Skates into a hug.

'So what happened, Ace? Jack?' asked Boots. 'Tell us.'

The leaders looked at each other, still not quite believing the news themselves.

'Well, uh…' said Ace, wincing at the pain in her lip. 'Long story short, Weasel just sent the Delanceys packin'.'

'For good,' added Jack. Every face around him lit up. Itey summed up their collective feelings in one accurate exclamation:

'Wait, first Streets turns into Racetrack, Ace an' Skates pull out some crazy Chinese fightin' moves, an' now the Delanceys are out? This is the best morning _ever_!'

**A/N: SO TIRED ahhh…*uses laptop as pillow* Please reward me for my efforts with a review, even if it's just a few words, and even if you've never reviewed this story before. Every single one makes me smile ^_^ In other news, according to my stats, this story's had 5 different visitors from Norway - hello/hei! :)**


	17. Don't Ask Me How Fortune Found Me

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Don't Ask Me How Fortune Found Me**

'What's the time?'

'Half past six,' said Racetrack, checking his fob watch. Mush sighed from his horizontal position on the burgundy couch.

'She's workin' too hard.'

'Don't worry, Mush,' said Darlin'. 'Madison's just havin' fun learnin' new tricks. I hear Medda's getting more an' more impressed every time she goes over there.'

'That's true,' sighed Mush. 'I just miss her, is all.'

'Miss her?' said David. 'You sold papes with her the whole of today.'

'Yeah, but…I miss her _right now_,' said Mush, casting his hands up and letting them fall back to his sides.

From the lobby windowsill, Skittery held his tongue. Tumbler sat cross-legged on the floor below, playing 'Snap' with Les. He took a moment to tug on his older brother's sleeve.

'Feelin' glum again, Skitts?'

He gave a reassuring smile and ruffled Tumbler's hair.

'Who, me? No more than usual.'

Ace glanced up from her pencil and knew he was improving the truth for Tumbler's benefit. She felt a grayness settle on her heart - Vi's birthday was three days ago, and no one knew what state her life was currently in. In fact, Skittery was the only one who had seen her in the last four months, during that harrowing February encounter he'd shakily reported the morning after it happened. Talking about it now only dug up fresh pain, for him and for everyone else.

So it was that Ace returned her attention to the words, all the words that began with 'a'.

'How I ended up with two bookworms for a best friend an' a girlfriend,' said Jack, standing behind the couch on which David and Ace sat. 'Is beyond my comprehension.'

They chuckled quietly, absorbed in a dictionary with a cracked spine, whose weight was distributed evenly between their knees.

'What exactly are ya doin' with that, anyway?' asked Snitch.

'Learning new words,' they replied together, eyes glued to the old pages.

'Ooh, 'aseity', that's a good one,' said David, jotting it on his school exercise pad.

'This is fun,' said Ace. 'We should make it our new hobby.'

'Boy,' said Spot, perched on the front desk counter. 'You sure got a warped idea of what fun is.'

Ace rolled her eyes at him and pursed her lips, now fully healed from the Delancey incident. She raised her eyebrows at one particular entry in the dictionary.

'Hey girls, look what I've found.'

Skates, Streets and Darlin', the only other girls in the lobby, walked over to her with curious expressions. They leaned in and looked at the page Ace pointed out.

'Ha, well how 'bout that,' said Streets. 'Guess they got a different idea about what it means from you an' Vi.'

At the mention of her name, Skittery turned his head out of the fading daylight.

'Huh?'

Ace had a cryptic look in her eyes; after a pause, she decided to explain their inside joke.

'As it happens, Vi's the one who helped me settle on a name.'

'Wait, what's the word?' asked David, before reading it off the page: ' "asexual (adjective): independent of sexual processes, especially not involving the union of male and female germ cells." Right…'

Then, living up to his title of 'a mouth with a brain', David made the connection.

'Ohhh, you mean _that's _what 'Ace' is short for?'

'Well done,' she nodded, before adding, to relieve the newsboys of their befuddled expressions, 'Vi an' I were talkin' through my, uh, aversion, if you will. She'd only been with us about a week, but it was clear from the start that she had a real education under her belt.

'Long story short, I was tryin' to find a word that could accurately sum up the way I was, an' all of a sudden, Vi throws the word 'asexual' out there. It was real casual, but somethin' clicked when I heard it. So, I shortened it to 'Ace', and now here I am.'

'But I didn't think it was an actual word,' said Skates, staring at the page. 'As in, y'know, a word with a seal of approval. I thought Vi just made it up.'

'Neither did I,' said Ace. 'Until just this second.'

'Why do I feel like I'm missin' something here?' said Spot, frowning.

Ace could have fallen through the couch - she'd completely forgotten that Spot hadn't been there on the day Jack and the boys had had That Discussion about her.

'Someone, anyone, explain?' she asked the room, feeling much too awkward to do it herself. Jack patted her shoulder and crossed the lobby. He cupped his hands around Spot's ear and tried to whisper as few words as necessary. His face stretched in disbelief.

'Well don't that explain a lot…' he mused. Ace was in a generous mood - she'd forgive him for that.

'Knock knock,' came a familiar voice. All heads turned to the open doors as Denton stepped into the lodging house. He was greeted heartily by everyone present.

'Hey Denton,' said Ace. 'Didn't know you were intendin' to visit.'

'Well, there's some rather exciting news circulating the presses, and I thought the two of you,' (he pointed his hat at her and David) 'might be interested to hear it.'

'What's going on?' asked David.

'I see you're making good use of my dictionary,' he said with a grin.

'Sure is fascinatin',' agreed David.

'A good sign,' he nodded. 'A very good sign indeed. Mr. Pulitzer and Mr. Gammon have collaborated to form a series of journalism apprenticeships for the young people of New York. And it so happens that I've been put in charge of one of them.'

David and Ace looked at each other, eyes as sparky as the beginnings of a fire.

'What are you sayin', that we could learn how to be a reporter just like you?'

'For two weeks, yes, I'd effectively take you under my wing, give you assignments…perhaps even get a story in the papers all your own.'

'Wow…' breathed David. He got up on his knees with a face full of delight. 'This is so sudden. Why would Pulitzer of all people be creating initiatives like this?'

'I suspect he's trying to clear his conscience by making amends with the working-class boys - and girls - of New York. Regardless of motives, I think you and Ace, the bookworms that you are, would be very well-suited for it.'

'See, what'd I tell ya?' smiled Jack.

'Shall we go for it?' said Ace to David. He gave a speechless shrug and let his instinct do the nodding for him.

'Excellent,' beamed Denton. 'Then it's settled. We'll discuss dates another time, but I just wanted to get an answer first.'

'It's a resoundin' 'yes' from me,' said Ace, smiling. Then her expression became puzzled as another visitor dropped in. At the same time, Jack and Spot exclaimed,

'_Medda_?'

'Evening boys,' said Medda cheerfully. 'Oh, and girls.'

'Um…' the Manhattan newsies were suddenly overcome with a need to straighten up and smooth down their hair.

'Is somethin' wrong?' asked Blink. 'You ain't never come to see us here before.'

'I know,' she said, brushing down her light coat. 'But don't be alarmed - nothing's wrong at all. Only I've just found myself in need of an audience for the dress rehearsal of our brand new stage acts. Including our young Madison.'

Mush broke out into a wide smile.

'Really? She's gonna be a regular?'

'I think she's proved herself,' nodded Medda. 'Whaddya say, newsies? Up for a free show tonight?'

Before a unanimous and enthusiastic 'yes' could be given, Kloppman raised a hand from his paperwork.

'My good woman, will this be takin' place after the kids have had their dinner from the nuns?'

'Oh, sure, if that's what's most convenient for ya,' replied Medda. Her eyes landed on Denton; she reached out a hand. 'Ooh, I'm sorry, have we met before?'

'No, probably not,' said David, closing up the dictionary and standing. 'Medda, meet Bryan Denton, star reporter for the _New York Sun_. Denton, you remember Medda Larkson, the Swedish Meadowlark?'

'Yes, I do,' he said kindly, shaking her hand. 'I enjoyed your performance at last year's rally a great deal.'

'Why thank you,' she said graciously. 'I -'

'Excuse me, sir,' came a quiet, patient voice from the doorway. 'We do not wish to interrupt, but…'

'Oh, not at all, sister,' said Kloppman, removing his hat at once for the nuns. 'Newsies, form an orderly line - it's one a' the things you're best at.'

The twenty-odd occupants obeyed their landlord, including Spot, who started up a conversation with Race and Streets. Denton and Medda engaged in chitchat as the newsies received their daily evening meal.

'Thanks,' said Boots, who was first in line. When he glanced at the face of the person ladling out soup, he almost flipped his cup into the air.

'Frames!'

'Surprise,' she grinned. The rest of the line stopped whatever they were doing and gawked. Dutchy and Specs couldn't resist bursting out of the doorway to engulf her in a hug.

'Whoa, okay, okay, calm down guys,' she whispered. 'The nuns are watchin'.'

'Sorry,' they said, still with grins plastered on their faces. Frames shooed them back into line, conscious of her behavior, but poured happiness into every cup of soup she handed out.

'Does this mean we'll be seein' ya around on a regular basis?' asked Darlin' with glee. Frames nodded.

'I get to choose my community work sections, so this really wasn't a tough decision at all.'

'That's grand, hun,' she said.

'Yeah, Frames,' said Ace, next in line for soup. 'This couldn't have worked out better.'

'Hey,' said Jack, waiting just behind her. He squinted into the distance. 'Is that Rich?'

Ace looked to her left - Rich was indeed jogging down the street towards them.

'An' where may I ask have you been all this time?'

Rich, red in the face, took a moment to regain her breath. Ace and Jack stepped aside and drank their soup while she explained:

'I been down the docks…'

'What, ya mean Riverside?'

'Yeah,' she nodded, gulping air. 'I was sellin' near there by the end of the afternoon, so I thought I might as well go see what state the shack's in.'

'Oh,' said Ace, with an air of disappointment. 'To see if it's warm enough to move back in?'

The conversations in the line behind them died down. Darlin' and Blink exchanged downcast glances, as did Race and Streets, and Crutchy and Skates, at the remembrance of Jack's words to Kloppman: the girls only needed to stay at Duane Street until the winter was out.

'Yeah,' said Rich. 'But when I got there, I noticed one glarin' problem.'

'What's that?' asked Ace. 'Is the shack in bad shape?'

'Uh…that's the thing,' said Rich, rocking on her heels. 'It ain't.'

'It ain't what?'

'In any shape at all,' clarified Rich. 'It's gone.'

'…Gone.'

'Huh?' said Darlin'.

'What d'you mean 'gone'?' said Frames, doling out soup to Bumlets. 'Where does a shack go?'

'Well that's why I'm so late,' said Rich. 'I ran around for _ages_ tryin' to find out what happened. Eventually some old fisherman told me that, some time in January, the shack got demolished, on account a' bein' vacant. Now apparently they're gonna build a boat repair shop there instead.'

Ace turned to face the other Riverside newsies, not knowing what to do with this information.

'Boy,' said Skates. 'Just as well we weren't still there in January, or that'd have caused some real complications.'

'Oh yeah,' said Streets. ''Cause we ain't had no drama while stayin' _here_ whatsoever.'

'You know what I mean,' said Skates, batting the air with her hand.

'Does that mean we can keep stayin' here?' asked Darlin', voice coated in hope. They all peered back through the doorway at Kloppman, who blinked. His expression was quite unreadable, but when he opened his mouth, the newsies beamed:

'Oh, what the hey, we're in the twentieth century now. Consider yer request granted.'

The sound Darlin' made as she wrapped Blink in a hug could only be compared to a mouse on helium. Jack and Ace were equally thrilled.

'Feel like crossin' over to the domain a' the 'Hattan newsies?' he proposed. Ace grinned.

'Why not,' she replied. 'The Manhattan newsies: one for all an' all for one.'

* * *

They reveled in the novelty of having an entire theater to themselves. Ace, Jack and Spot rested their feet on chairs around a table, drinks within reach.

'How's the view from up there, Race?' called Spot.

'Fit for a king,' came the reply. 'If I do say so myself.'

'And a queen,' piped up Streets, leaning over the balcony with him.

Skittery kept Crutchy, Tumbler, David and Les company at the table next to the leaders', although Mush took up a seat as well.

'Thought ya wanted a plush seat up top,' said Skittery, glancing above his head at the other newsies, some of whom put their feet up on whole rows to themselves.

'I did,' admitted Mush. 'But then I figured I wanna see Madison up close when she makes her debut.'

'Rehearsal debut,' said David, unable to resist.

'Eh, same difference,' said Skittery, taking a long drag on a cigarette.

They soaked up the atmosphere when the lights dimmed. Medda started the show off on a high, warbling a song about spring by the name of 'Minerlied'.

'Thank you, thank you,' she called out in between curtseys. Her voice projected on the introductions to the next act: 'And now, I hand you over to the mystical care of our resident Wizard of Wonder, _and_ his dazzling assistant, Madison the Magical!'

Mush cheered and wolf-whistled louder than anyone when his girlfriend appeared from behind the stage curtains. The girls gasped in appreciation at her costume: a long, shimmering dress with full skirts and a plain bodice, the color of fresh violets. Her oaky blonde hair floated around her face and down her back, liberated tonight from the confines of her newsie cap.

'What a woman,' was all Mush could say, beside himself.

Madison may not have had sleeves to keep objects in, but her sleight of hand with cards, plus a levitation trick that left them all thoroughly baffled, was proof of just how far she'd progressed as a magician.

'Now, ladies and gentlemen,' intoned the Wizard, projecting through his raspy voice. 'I present to you my final trick: the Disappearing Girl.'

A stagehand quickly wheeled out a rectangular box, tall enough for a person to stand upright in. Madison, with her gleaming smile, swept herself into the box. The Wizard carefully shut its door and put on an exaggeratedly mysterious expression.

' Watch closely now, as I recite the incantation that will make my assistant well, and truly, _disappear_…'

'Oh boy,' whispered Tumbler, craning his neck excitedly. 'How's he gonna do that?'

Dramatic music sounded up from the hidden orchestra pit. The Wizard fluttered his fingers and chanted:

'Macabre Magicus, Swiftia Disapparatium, abracadabra!'

The suspenseful drumbeat halted as soon as he shouted the last word. All was still. Having fully captured the newsies' attention, the Wizard leant forward and turned the doorknob.

'Behold,' he stage-whispered, pulling the door wide open.

They'd been expecting an empty box to gasp and applaud over, but what the newsies were actually presented with had more shock value than they ever imagined.

Skittery very seriously considered the possibility that he was dreaming. His cigarette slipped from between his fingers as he sat up, slowly, as if disturbing the air might break this breathtaking vision before him.

Vi stepped out of the box in time with the serene rhythm of her violin bow, the hem of her white gown whispering against the stage floor. She used the startlingly bright stage lights as energy to fuel her strokes, pressing each finger hard and precisely into the violin neck with each chord change. She'd been practicing it for the last three days, but had sung it to herself for much, much longer.

Skittery felt himself rise from his chair without consciously deciding to. He moved slowly to the foot of the steps that led down from the edge of the stage, breath caught in the middle of his chest.

She was reaching the end of her melody, climbing into higher notes and approaching the end of the stage. When Vi struck the final, elongated tone, as strong and beautiful as a dark pink rose, the stage lights gave way to faces at the tables below. There was Ace, Jack and Spot, their cool demeanors in metaphorical pieces around their chairs. And there…there he was.

Vi heard her heart pounding under her skin as soon as her bow left the strings. Her shallow breaths were the only sounds to break the silence that filled the auditorium.

Without drawing too much attention to herself, Madison appeared from nowhere and, sheathed in darkness at the side of the stage, reached up to take the instrument off Vi's hands, just as they'd practiced.

'That's your song, Skittery,' she said simply, but sincerely. 'A song for saving me.'

Vi extended an arm, waiting to feel the touch of his fingertips again. He took one step at a time, until they were both on stage. Skittery let his hands fill the spaces between her fingers and tried to figure out what to do about the lightning storm of emotions that crashed around inside him.

Not a single person in the theater - not even the crew backstage - dared to move or speak. This was a private moment that just happened to be in a public space.

For a handful of long seconds, all they did was stare into each other's eyes. Vi waited for him to lean in; Skittery waited for her to lean up. Then they realized what was making them hesitate.

'This is the first time -' began Vi.

' - We ain't in the dark,' finished Skittery. Nervous smiles twitched at their mouths. They would just have to learn on the spot.

Vi felt her toes push themselves off the ground when she saw the gleam of the stage lights in his eyes, and in his hair. It was like the moonlight all over again, and it was just the cue she needed.

When they finally kissed, the rest of the newsies were jolted out of their paralysis. They leapt towards the stage, hurrying down from the stalls and balconies as fast as they could without endangering themselves.

As Vi was too busy getting lifted off the floor and into Skittery's arms, Ace decided to confront Madison.

'You were in on this?!'

'I am _so relieved_ to stop keepin' the secret, I can tell ya!' shouted Madison over the cheers. She laughed as Mush all but crashed into her.

'Have I told ya what a beautiful person you are?' he said.

'A few times,' she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. 'But once more certainly won't hurt.'

'Medda?' said Jack, as the proprietor of Irving Hall joined the crowd on stage.

'C'mon Kelly,' she chortled. 'Why else would I insist you all come to an empty theater on such short notice?'

He raised an eyebrow and nodded: fair enough.

When Vi and Skittery paused for breath, she was pounced on by her friends. As usual, Darlin' and Streets were blubbering, although this time they were joined by Snoddy and Snipeshooter.

'Are you cryin' over me?' said Vi, incredulous.

'Well what else would we be cryin' over?' countered Snoddy, hugging her tightly. 'Scuffed carpets?'

Ace felt more aglow than a bonfire. She stood back from the stage and pre-emptively wiped her eyes, which felt damp.

'Y'know,' said Jack, putting his arm around her. 'Even after we won the strike, the guys weren't as happy as they are now.'

'I think the same can be said for us,' she responded, smiling at him. When he turned to kiss her, Ace suddenly remembered a question she'd put away in a box for a month.

'Jack.'

'Yeah?'

She put a hand on his shoulder and spoke into his ear to make herself heard.

'I never chased ya about what Weasel said to you after he kicked out the Delanceys.'

He blinked at her with an ambiguous expression.

'Well?' said Ace. 'What'd he say to ya?'

Jack locked their fingers together and smiled warmly.

'Honestly? He told me, real stern-like, that I should hold onto ya forever, because women like you come along about as often as he gets a pay rise.'

Ace tilted her head, her gaze as neutral as water. Then she opened up the box that held every happy feeling in her being, and let the contents bring a smile into her face, the biggest one she had to give.

The two Manhattan leaders shared another kiss, arms around each other. They looked out at the newsies, their friends for life, and knew the future was all theirs.

**THE END **

**(for real this time)**

**A/N: Oh. My. Newsies. I'm absolutely shattered, I have to get up early tomorrow (today), but I couldn't care less because this story is officially finished. I've come to care an awful lot about these characters, original and canon, because for the last month or so they moved into my brain and basically refused to leave until I detailed their adventures. I can only hope they've been as real to you as they have to me ^_^**

**AA/N: There's a lot more fiction from me if you want to read it - just look for AceOfWords on wattpad, or follow me on Twitter, AceOfWords. Then you'll see just how crazy I really am :P**

**AAA/N: For a final time, I give enormous thanks to Nicely Nicely's Little Sister, Ealasaid Una, LovesBrooklyn, and Stardust, for your uplifting and supportive reviews. Without them, I wouldn't have had half the motivation to get these chapters out every day. Now, excuse me while I go sleep for a week.**


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